


Primeless

by PrimeRadiant



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Armada
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimeRadiant/pseuds/PrimeRadiant
Summary: Decepticons in power on Cybertron alternate universe, mostly G1, but other characters make an appearance.Leaders Optimus Prime and Megatron have vanished in a space bridge accident on Cybertron. The Autobots are fragmented and fight back in scattered cells across the planet, but the Decepticons have their own problems...Glyph and Tap-Out, working for the elite Autobot Special Ops, are caught in the middle.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Storm Break

“I’ve got some bad news for you all--there is a traitor among us.”

Starscream sat at the head of the Great Table of the Decepticon High Council, arms crossed, with the smile they’d all come to hate. Around him: the great generals of Cybertron, growing impatient with the Air Commander.

This was a convocation of Decepticon leaders and generals, at the top of Castle Darkmount, one month after Megatron’s disappearance.

Starscream stood, took his time walking around the room. “You see, despite Prime being gone, the Autobots are still able to disrupt our operations with frustrating accuracy.” He stopped to look up through the sky port to a distant star. “This is more than we would expect from them while leaderless. Triton has broken cover to inform me that there are desperate espionage measures afoot.”

He glanced about at the others. Straxus sat, both hands across his axe hilt, back completely straight, body unmoving. Deathsaurus appeared to be paying attention, but Starscream knew he was already moving pawns around in his mind, trying to suss out the traitor. Scorponok gritted his teeth, accompanied by the sound of heavy metal claws clanking together. Overlord leaned his forward, his head propped by his palm. Thunderwing kept his optics fixed squarely on Starscream. The new generals Collider, Stormriser, and Frontstab all exchanged glances.

“What’s more,” Starscream said as though he were bored, “the traitor is right here in this room.”

_ That  _ got their attention. 

Collider gripped her seat with both hands and looked ready to leap out of her seat. “How could this be? What is our counter-attack?” Then another voice came out of her mouth: “ _ I’ll tear whoever it is to pieces! _ ”

Frontstab, who had a giant knife protruding from his chest that sometimes poked his subordinates, asked, “Why aren’t Shockwave and Soundwave here? They should be here! We need their help!”

Stormriser watched the entrance to the room, as if searching for spies. "Something ain't right. Startin' to feel like we're bein' set up for something."

Overlord sat back with his arms crossed. “Starscream. Honestly. All of us are constantly monitored by each other, and our own troops. All of us, of course, except you.” 

Starscream smiled. “Before our dear Megatron was lost to us in the space bridge accident--”

Thunderwing interrupted. “He is missing, Starscream, not dead--”

“Before  _ he was lost to us _ , he appointed me as second-in-command.”

“He appointed you as lead general,  _ not  _ second-in-command.  _ Shockwave  _ is second-in-command,” Deathsaurus countered.

“Ah ha. A minor distinction. But let us not quibble over that detail. The fact is: Megatron is gone. He has been gone for too long for us to not nominate a new leader.”

“Our laws are clear, Starscream,” Thunderwing said. “It hasn’t been long enough--”

“ _ You fool! _ ” Starscream snapped. “Are you so obsessed with the rules? The Autobots are beating back our offenses! They are retaking cities!” He reached towards Scorponok. “Remember Yuss? It’s neutral again! After all that planning we did!” He looked towards Deathsaurus. “What about Icosahex? Or Vos? Gone! Autobots are waving their flags in our faces! And you want to  _ sit here  _ like a lump and do nothing?” He walked quickly now, both hands gesticulating up and down. “I deliberately gave up my right to be monitored by the rest of you! I invite suspicion for the good of the Decepticons! No one,  _ no one,  _ cares more about the cause than I!”

Thunderwing slowly stood and walked towards the exit. Over his shoulder, he said, “Starscream. Every other day, you have called this meeting. Every other day, we have urged restraint and caution. Continue to abuse your privilege, and you will find your words useless against my fists on your face.” And before exiting: “Do  _ not  _ call me obsessive.”

Overlord followed. Stormriser and Collider jumped at his sudden motion.

“Overlord! I demand you return to your place! I’m not finished yet!”

Overlord replied, “Not yet, anyway. When you figure out who the traitor is, let me know.”

Scorponok said, “But what if the traitor is  _ you _ ?”

Overlord turned and faced the room, opened his arms as if to embrace them all. “What if? What will you do about it?” he said, laughing. He left the room.

“Promoting him was a mistake,” Starscream grumbled. “And it’s a mistake to delay the selection of a new leader! We have no time to waste!”

Stormriser stood, his four red wings brushing the chair as they unfolded. “But who would be leader, Starscream?”

Starscream looked flattered. “Well, naturally the leader would be possess the tactical prowess, the cunning, the strength, and the mastery of the skies to take on such a responsibility--”

“--then logically, I am the optimal choice.” Shockwave said, entering the room. “Stand down, Starscream. Where is Soundwave?”

“Shockwave, I have called this meeting--”

“Starscream,” Shockwave said, his eye pulsing. “Stand. Down.” Starscream sat. Frontstab scowled at Shockwave.

“Query: where is Soundwave?”

Stormriser spoke up. “He was with me when we came into the castle, but I didn’t see him after that.”

“Most puzzling. Without him here, our communications are not perfectly encrypted. Someone has discerned this and is exploiting our security protocols.”

“You see? You see? We have a traitor right here! My spy network has confirmed it, Shockwave!”

“You and Shockwave both are ill-suited to lead,” Scorponok said. “This infiltration has gone on under your watch, Shockwave. Do you think Megatron would be pleased with the corruption and espionage under your regime?”

“Scorponok: the number of logical fallacies that you commit whenever you speak is innumerable,” Shockwave replied.

Scorponok stood. “What did you say!?”

“Fact: Megatron and Optimus Prime disappeared last month during the explosion of a malfunctioning trans-time dimensional portal. Fact: Autobot aggression has increased over the past month. Fact: only Soundwave and I have taken measures to deduce the identity of the traitor leaking our private data. Conclusion--”

“Conclusion: you can’t hide insults behind logic, Shockwave! I won’t stand for this!” Scorponok’s claw smashed down on the Great Table, rocking it.

“Fact: this table is expensive. Do not destroy it. Fact: I offer only data. Your history of incompetence is well-documented and not subject to interpretation.”

Scorponok stood, claws open, just as Shockwave’s gun arm pointed at him. 

“Comrades! Stop this!” Deathsaurus said. “We must regroup! Our enemy is out there, not each other!” The new generals shifted in their seats. This was only their third meeting; was this how the leaders behaved?

“No, the enemy  _ is  _ here,” Starscream said in a petulant voice. “That’s what I’ve been saying but no one listens to me.”

“No, Starscream’s right! We gotta take out this traitor first!” Frontstab roared. He was careful to not turn left or right too quickly so as to not stab his colleagues with the giant blade in this chest.

Starscream squinted. “Something...something’s not right with your voice,” he said. 

Frontstab tensed. “Wh-what?” He held his throat as if someone were stealing it. Stormriser glared at him. “I...I’m just nervous, I--”

“Silence!” Shockwave yelled. “We will not devolve into internecine squabbling. As Megatron wrote in  _ Returning Cybertron to Power,  _ deceit and subterfuge are tools, not enemies. Only the weak are unable to function without trust. We must always assume the presence of the traitorous.” His yellow eye was so bright it could blind an optic sensor. “Now then. Unlike in Starscream’s previous meetings, I have actual information to report. Due to recent Autobot attacks, we are forced to bolster fortifications at Kaon and suspend the Trypticon initiative. Megatron would be disappointed but  _ as second-in-command of the Decepticons _ \--” he said looking at Starscream, “I assume full responsibility. Now, I will share with each of you your fuel budgets and warrior allocations…”

While Shockwave spoke, Starscream leaned over to Straxus: “I appreciate you lending us your castle for this meeting, old pal. Can you believe Shockwave right now, quoting Megatron’s writing?”

Without moving his body at all, Straxus replied, “Starscream. I have not listened to a single word anyone has said since I sat down. This goes double for you. If you speak to me again in such a familiar tone I will cleave you in two.”

Frontstab said, “Starscream, I believe you. Something’s not right here at all.”

Starscream glowered at him. “What’s wrong with your voice!?”

“My voice?”

“Your accent. It’s all wrong. The Kaon accent, it’s...it’s missing.”

At this, Shockwave stopped. Everyone stopped and stared at Frontstab.

“I--I don’t know what you mean! I’m not--”

Stormriser stood up. “I knew it. You’ve been sounding funny all day.” He shook his head. “Oh. Oh Pit. He’s...he’s got a voice modulator.”

“What!?”

Starscream looked horrified. “But I selected you as general...are you saying...that...that he’s been a traitor ever since--”

Stormriser’s left hand disappeared into his wrist, and a rifle emerged, pointing at Frontstab. “No. Look, it’s clear: it’s been a month since Megatron disappeared, and now he’s been leaking data to the Autobots ever since. He’s not from Kaon at all like he swore he was. He’s been faking it to expose our secrets!”

Straxus’s axe began to glow. His head turned. Scorponok and Deathsaurus stood up slowly.

Frontstab backed away. “No! No, it’s not true! Stormriser, you and me and Collider, we all joined at the same time! I thought--I thought we were--”

Shockwave spoke. “Do not move.”

Collider’s mouth was agape. “I--I can’t believe-- _ destroy him destroy him-- _ I can’t believe--”

Stormriser shook his head. “I trusted you. Any last words, traitor?” He held the rifle closer.

Frontstab said, “Fine, you cowardly Decepti-creeps! See you in the Pit!” and the expression on his face was true horror as though he couldn’t believe he had said the words.

With a shriek, Starscream shot him through the head and chest. His chest blade clattered to the ground.

For a minute, no one said anything. 

Then Straxus said, “That was good.”

Starscream said slowly, sadly, “See? I was right. I was right…”

Scorponok turned towards him. “Yes, you were right! Your own appointees are traitors!”

It may have been possible to see steam rising from Starscream’s head upon close inspection.

Stormriser stood over the dead Decepticon. “Lord Shockwave, I will take his body to my forensics lab quickly to learn where his body has been bugged or compromised before his mental structures fully decay.”

Shockwave said, “Fine. Proceed.”

Stormriser gathered the body into his arms and was almost out the door--

\--when Soundwave entered suddenly.

“Soundwave!” Stormriser gasped. 

“You are late,” Scorponok growled. 

“I was detained. An elevator malfunctioned and I could not escape.”

“I see. We discovered a traitor in our midst. It was Frontstab. We have just executed him,” Shockwave said.

“You have committed a fatal error,” Soundwave replied. “Frontstab was not the traitor.”

Deathsaurus asked, “But how do you know?”

“Because I detect active voice modification malware directed at his body in this room.” He turned towards Stormriser.

“There!”

Stormriser saw the next few events in slow motion. He remembered his arm lifting, Soundwave’s chest compartment opening. A yellow blur emerging from the chest. Suddenly his arm was gone. Then the sharp pain. Then the awful avian screech. Stormriser collapsed.

The Decepticon leaders and generals all backed away.

“ _ What is going on here!? _ ” Deathsaurus howled.

Buzzsaw landed on Soundwave’s shoulder, his beak gleaming and damp with energon. “Behold your traitor,” Soundwave said.

On the ground, in front of the dead, sparking body of Frontstab, the form of Stormriser began to shimmer, and vanish--

\--revealing two small Autobots crumpled together!

A yellow Autobot who just lost his arm, bleeding out: Scrounge.

A blue Autobot, wide-eyed and trembling: Glyph.

A small grey rectangular box fell to the ground. Scorponok picked it up and examined it. “It’s...an image inducer. Most likely one of Hound’s designs!”

Starscream’s voice became more shrill by the second. “You mean this--this  _ trash-- _ has been masquerading...as...was she perched on his shoulders pretending to be a general!?”

Straxus picked up the severed arm. “This was no rifle. This was a microphone.” He crushed the arm.

Deathsaurus said, “It all becomes clear now. That was not Frontstab speaking those treacherous final words. You were  _ throwing your voice at him. _ ”

Starscream pointed his null ray at Scrounge.

“Starscream, hold!” Shockwave said. “It’s clear the Autobots have a more elaborate spy system than we expected. We need to...interrogate them.”

“I’ll kill you both!” Starscream bellowed. “How did you sound like Frontstab, scum? Do you realize what you’ve done! You made me kill one of my own soldiers and  _ worse, made me look bad in front of the others! _ ”

“Starscream, cease immediately!” Shockwave yelled.

Glyph stood in front of Scrounge, who was making pained, wincing noises. Scorponok grabbed them both.

“Optimus Prime is gone. Who is your commander? Are you Special Ops? Wrecker trainees? Or maybe you’re just pissed little puppets who wanted to off all the leaders in one meeting?”

Glyph felt her torso beginning to buckle under his grasp. “You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you? You think I’m afraid of you?” 

_ I am. Primus, I am. But for once in my life, don’t let it show now,  _ she thought.

“Bold worlds from a scraplet facing death. Soundwave?”

Soundwave placed each hand on each of their heads. They began to scream. Glyph thought it was like someone cutting out pieces of her mind. All the meditation exercises from Beachcomber, all the interrogation resistance practice from Prowl seemed useless. And then it stopped.

“This one knows languages,” Soundwave said. “And this one can modify voices.”

“That is...logical,” Shockwave said reluctantly. “She made us believe that Frontstab’s voice was fraudulent. But she knew exactly how to make him sound. Her precise knowledge of Frontstab’s Kaonic Neo-Cybex accent and Scrounge’s ability to project audio and distort voices were a perfect combination. But that’s why you prevented Soundwave from arriving. He would have seen through your ploy immediately.”

Glyph said nothing.

Deathsaurus transformed into his dragon mode. “Where is the real Stormriser? When did you begin this impersonation?  _ I will only ask once. _ ”

Scrounge replied, laughing hysterically through his pain. “You Decepticons get so cocky. You underestimate us.  _ You forget what fear is like! _ ”

“He is near-death. Ignore him. Kill them both,” Shockwave said flatly.

And as Scorponok’s grip tightened, she hoped, she prayed that  _ he  _ would be on time just this one time.

She tapped her foot on the Great Table as it dangled, as she and Scrounge were squeezed to death.

_ Please _ .

Then the room began to rumble. The squeezing stopped as everyone looked around. Even with her midsection slightly crumpled, she smiled to herself.

Then the Great Table exploded. 

A green fist rose up though the middle as table fragments and dust went everywhere. Over all the noise, only Starscream’s shrieks of terror were louder. She saw Soundwave crash against a wall. Then she saw  _ him _ .

“Tap-Out!” she cried.

“Oh  _ yeah! _ ” the little green Autobot screamed, fist-pumping the air. Scorponok had dropped the two hostages, but Starscream was blocking the door. But by the time Glyph had realized this, Tap-Out was already there, his arms grabbing Starscream’s legs, and suplexing him. The screaming stopped.

Tap-Out kept on hooting. “Hell yeah! Let’s go!” He grabbed Scrounge and Glyph and ran through the door. He felt the radiation of purple beams narrowly miss him as he escaped.

“After them!” Starscream shouted, struggling to stand.

“Starscream, this is  _ your  _ responsibility.  _ You  _ go after them!” Deathsaurus said. 

***

Running through the long hallways of Darkmount, Tap-Out asked, “Are you okay?!”

“No,” Glyph said. “You really cut it close back there.”

“Did you accomplish the mission?”

“Yeah. Frontstab is gone.”

Tap-Out’s usual grin faded for a moment. “Thank you.” Then: “We gotta transform, we gotta book it outta here.”

“But Scrounge can’t. His arm...he’s almost gone…”

“No time for this,” Scrounge said. “Arm they took was broadcasting. This arm here--” he gestured, “--is for recording. Here’s all the data from Operation: Stormbreaker.” A small thumb drive popped out of his hand. “Take it and go.”

Glyph stammered. “But--”

“No, seriously, skip all this. Please. Take it and go. Bye you two.” Scrounge folded up into a wheel and rolled back towards the Great Hall.

“Oh, Primus…” Tap-Out said. “We can’t waste what he just did for us, c’mon.” He and Glyph transformed and zoomed down the long corridor. But before they could even get into fifth gear, a black and purple jet soared over them and transformed, firing at the ground. The ground warped and sent the Autobots crashing into the wall. While they transformed, the black and purple robot approached them.

“Collider,” Glyph whispered.

“You thought you could just waltz into Darkmount and take on all the leaders and survive?” she said, walking towards them. “You thought you could pretend to be my friend Stormriser and humiliate me and Lord Starscream and live? Where is he? Where is Stormriser!?” Her hands began to crackle.

“What the Pit is she?” Tap-Out asked, on his feet.

“She’s got matter and antimatter beams colliding in her brain. Makes her powerful and insane…”

“You think you know all about me, do you?!” Her hands crackled brighter.

“Bring it on, sister!” Tap-Out pounded his fists together. “ _ Come on! _ ”

“We can’t dodge this, Tap!” Glyph said. She paused and looked around quickly. “If there are any blast doors around here, please! Close now!”

Collider’s optics flashed from purple to bright red. “ _ Kill, kill you both--! _ ”

Glyph spoke again, in a different language, in the language of old doors and blast shields: “< _ Please close now!> _ ”

And a beam of high-energy gamma rays burst from Collider’s hands.

And the door emerged from the ceiling, slammed down.

And as they drove away, they could hear her mournful, raging screams.

***

Near the base of Darkmount, the two Autobots huddled behind storage containers in an old munitions shed. The exits were patrolled by fleets of Overcharges. 

“I think we’re safe for now,” Tap-Out said. “Man, I didn’t know you could talk to doors!”

“If I can get through your thick skull, I can get through to a blast shield,” she said with a smirk.

“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. And that even includes me bodyslamming Roadhandler.” They were careful to not laugh, but she wanted to.

“Look,” he continued after a minute. “You know what Frontstab and his crew did to me and all the other prisoners. So long stuck in that place. And I know all this was for recon, but--”

“Hey,” she interrupted. “Sometimes a word hits harder than a fist. And...maybe...I dunno, it’ll help you let go of it now.”

He looked down, and slowly nodded.

“You doin’ okay...about Scrounge?”

She covered her face with one hand. “I...I mean, he’s a resourceful guy. He’s sneaky. I wouldn’t count him out yet? But it doesn’t look good. It’s gonna take a while to realize he may be gone for good.”

“All right, we gotta rendezvous with Jazz for the next gig. In a few, the patrol shift will change and we can head straight for Altihex and drop these plans off with Chromia. You ready?”

She smiled. “You have to ask?”

***

“So the Autobots escaped,” Deathsaurus said, surveying the damage to the Great Hall.

“Indeed,” replied Shockwave. The two Decepticons were alone, Straxus having returned to the smelting pools, and Scorponok leading an attack on the Manganese Mountains. Soundwave stood outside, ensuring the conversation was fully secure and encrypted. “But a cost/benefit analysis yields a net gain. Fact: Starscream’s bid for leadership is now cast into doubt due to this...oversight. Fact: we have a clearer picture of the Autobot secret operations program. Fact: the Autobots believe they have learned more than they actually have!”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever since I learned that we were leaking data, I have been supplying false information. Now we can predict where  _ they  _ will attack next. We will put an end to these petty rebellions and crush them while they are leaderless.”

Deathsaurus slowly nodded. “And what about the bid for leadership?”

Shockwave looked up through the sky port. “I think that we should make Starscream the leader--responsible for all of these data leaks, until the inevitable return of Megatron.”

Deathsaurus laughed.

“Yes,” Shockwave continued. “That would be eminently logical.”


	2. Broken Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glyph and Tap-Out's mission to infiltrate Decepticon Castle Darkmount was a success: Decepticon intel was was retrieved. But their ally Scrounge sacrificed himself for their escape. Now, the pair join up with Autobot Special Ops to prepare for their next move and learn the last-known location of missing Autobot leader Optimus Prime.  
> What the Autobots don't know is that the intel is a trap, created by Shockwave. And new Decepticon leader Starscream needs a win. What secrets lie in the central Decepticon intelligence base?

Glyph sat under the cold, clear sky of Cybertron. Her internal heating units stuttered and shook her.  _ It was always dark on Cybertron these days _ , she thought. The planet’s sun was distant. She knew 534 names for that sun among all the languages of Cybertron, but none of that shielded her from being so afraid.

And when she was afraid, all the words in her mind became jumbled. There were a million labels for every person or thing she knew. 

She calmed herself by thinking of her books. She had read everything on the subject of spying and warfare before she joined Special Ops:  _ A Negative Number of Secrets  _ by Alpha Trion,  _ Nearby  _ by Punch and its sequel  _ Real Nearby,  _ Mirage’s  _ Tightropes,  _ Onslaught’s  _ Campaigns on Iacon,  _ even the forbidden  _ Book of 256 Rings  _ by Bludgeon.

Behind her was Ironworks station with its ridiculously huge red radar dish. That dish and its invisible spectrum scrambler was the only real shield between Autobot Special Ops and Shockwave All-Seeing, Shockwave of the Unsullied Thought, Shockwave whose laser cannon burns she could still feel singeing her arms as she and Tap-Out fled Darkmount a lunar cycle ago.

Tap-Out always made fun of her grandiose names for people. He was inside the station now. She could hear his muffled voice, shouting at someone. She tried to drown it out but she couldn’t;  _ she was forged to listen. _

Ironworks himself came out of his station. He trudged slowly to a seat next to her.

“Crummy night,” he said. Glyph looked over at him and nodded.

“I heard what’s going to happen to the station,” she started. “That you’re...going to have  _ the procedure  _ done…”

Ironworks kept staring at the sky. “Yep. Not enough energon to keep us afloat these days. Yeah, we’ll be a lot smaller, but that beats the alternative, doesn’t it? Bludgeon’s crew damn well sliced up my whole city. The Autobots aren’t perfect but  _ at least they aren’t as bad as the ‘Cons.  _ Y’know?”

She nodded again. She remembered the class on xenolinguistics that she co-taught with Nautica. She remembered Sixshot’s blitz attacks. She remembered metal burning on the front steps of her university. She remembered why she joined the Autobots.

And then she thought of her friend Scrounge With His Special Arms, surely captured by Decepticons last lunar cycle.

His voice brought her back to the cold night. “I got Wheeljack’s blueprints just now. After I make his design practical, you can start the mission.” He sipped an energon drink. “Still up for it? We need you for this one.”

She looked down, then away.

“We need you to help us find Optimus Prime.”

She knew that his sentence was not a request; it was a command. Optimus Prime of Coruscating Compassion. Of Fierce Battle. Of Valiant Commitment. She had to.

“You’re gonna be serving with Jazz. Ever work with that guy?”

She shook her head no. “I know he was close to Prime, but isn’t he kind of…”

“A joker? Yeah. Can’t stand people like that, personally. But when scrap hits the fan, there’s protocols that aren’t in The Autobot Code and he changes. He’s good. You’re gonna learn something.” He stood up and motioned her towards the station.

***

Lord Starscream approached the target.

Victory was his. The great generals all appointed him Decepticon leader quickly. Suspiciously quickly, he had noted. For so long, he’d waited for that moment. And things had never been more wrong in his life.

First, the Autobots. He’d assumed they were just scattered bands without Optimus Prime, but his leadership seems to have  _ emboldened  _ their attacks. His own home city Vos, being 99% Decepticon at this point, denounced him and sarcastically waved Autobot flags over their spaceports.  _ Better off with them,  _ they said. Sure, he embezzled millions of shanix back in the day and sure, he committed a half-dozen coups before leaving, but  _ that _ was uncalled for!

Then there was General Strika. When he was named leader, she laughed. Just laughed and walked away. No one had ever heard Strika laugh before. No one even knew her face could even form those shapes.

Then the next day someone stepped on his crown. He’d forgotten it was on his head when he’d transformed to jet mode and it fell off. “It was a mistake!” Skywarp had said.

And then he had tried to edit all the mentions of his name in the Great Archives with a search-and-replace, but he accidentally filled them with things like “Lord he” and “Lord Coward”. Bitstream and Hotlink  _ swore  _ they’d work on undoing that change.

Worst of all was what Thunderwing had said:

_ You’re so good at lingering behind us, with our backs in range of your knife. But what happens now, when we’re all behind you? _

He tried to forget that comment.

“This is the place. He’s down there,” Lord Starscream said in tetrajet mode.

Collider and Lord Starscream circled over a derelict building in Praxus. Landing in robot form atop the roof, they surveyed just how desolate the area had become. Collider’s face was grim; Lord Starscream had fond memories.

“Stormriser’s generating an SOS on this roof somewhere,” Collider said. “But I don’t see anyone.”

“Ah, of course!” Lord Starscream said. “His kidnappers were using image inducers last time. Now that we can recognize those signatures, we should be able to see right through them.” Over his internal comms, Lord Starscream said, “Soundwave! I’m sending you coordinates. I command you to decrypt any Autobot image inducer signatures that you detect!”

After a lengthy pause: “Acknowledged, Lord Starscream, Scion of the Liege, Supreme Air Commander.” If Soundwave’s voice could betray any emotion, Starscream would swear he could hear annoyance.

And in a corner of the roof, a pile of rubble began to shimmer and then vanished in a flash, revealing the motionless red-winged, dark blue body of Stormriser.

Collider ran over to him and placed her hand on a small orange dome on his back. Small electrical currents ran through her fingers, tracing the electrical structure in the foreign device. “Oh no. This is a mode-lock. But it’s also got some energon siphoning ability. He’ll probably be starving when he reactivates…”

Collider removed the lock. Stormriser groaned and tried to sit up. Collider knelt down next to him and passed him an energon mini-cube. “Take it easy,” she said, and then her optics flashed red and another voice said, “ _ fix you up good, yes!? Mmm drink up!”  _

“Starscream,” he slurred. “...What happened--”

“That’s  _ Lord  _ Starscream,” Lord Starscream replied. “Tyrant of the Firmament!”

Collider’s optics had flashed back to a purple-blue. “Lord Starscream is now the Decepticon leader!”

“Huh? ...how long was I out?”

Lord Starscream ignored the light jab. “Rise, my loyal friend. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Low energon flow to Stormriser’s cerebral circuits made him feel dizzy, and he leaned against the edge of the roof to stand up. “Where’s Frontstab?”

“Ah, about that,” Lord Starscream started. “He--”

“He was murdered by the Autobots who impersonated you!” Collider said in a pained tone.

“Impersonated...the little blue one and the yellow one that ambushed me? How did they... _ what?  _ He’s  _ dead?” _

“Yes they killed him!  _ But I swear revenge on them and will hack them into little bitty bits!”  _ As she spoke, she produced a gigantic sword from her back in a split-second.

Lord Starscream jumped back and gasped, “Oh Primus what is that?”

Stormriser squinted. “Is that Frontstab’s...chest blade?!”

“You actually  _ kept  _ that? Get rid of it immediately!” Lord Starscream shrieked.

“ _ My Lord I have sworn to impale the Autobots in the spark until the last drop of energon--” _

“All right! Keep it! Silence! Shut up! Argh!” Lord Starscream held his head in his hands. Collider’s optics returned to purple and her wings drooped a little bit.

“Star--er, Lord Starscream. What’s our next mission? With your duties, I reckon you must be extra occupied. Gonna to be important to delegate to bolster your leadership.”

“Why, Stormriser! Thank you for reminding me why I brought you on. In fact, I have selected Frontstab’s stopgap--uh, I mean, a new general to take up the gaping void left to us by Frontstab. Here, look at his portfolio.”

Stormriser and Collider looked at a datapad.

“His...name is ‘Starstream.’” Collider said. She had a sad look on her face and winced.

“Is that a new paint job? He has your colors. Also: _Starstream_? Really?”

“Do not judge General Starstream! His appearance and outlook on life and recent name change are all assets to his dependability! How can you not see this?”

“All right, all right, High Lord.  _ But what’s our next mission?  _ I gotta score to settle with them Autobots. They’re gonna pay with interest.”

“The Autobots got some leaked data, but Shockwave and Soundwave promise me that much of it was fraudulent. Those fools are desperate for counterattacks, and Shockwave calculates a 99% probability that the Autobots will discover and attack our primary data center in Helex. We’re going to intercept them there. Right now.”

“ _And Stormriser! We captured that yellow Autobot who killed Frontstab! And Lord Starscream promised us the kill._ _I can’t wait, hehehahaha!”_

“And reinforcements?”

“You and Collider  _ are  _ the reinforcements. I’ll be seeing to this personally. This glorious victory will make us all look better!”

“Good enough for me.” But Stormriser didn’t look happy about it.

The three Decepticons leapt into the air, changed into jets, and rocketed towards Helex.

***

“You’re really gonna leave me outta this one?” Tap-Out screamed.

Jazz leaned against a wall within Ironworks station, his arms folded. “Nah man. Nah...see it don’t work with you goin’ in all blazing guns and face punchin. You wanna do that kinda gig, you find Grimlock and his team. You on this mission...it just don’t  _ sound  _ right, dig?”

Tap-Out was about to say something when Ironworks and Glyph came in. Around the ops room, 2 seats swiveled around: Chromedome, who immediately returned to work, punching keys like they were enemies; Lightspeed, who waived and accidentally dumped a stack of datapads onto the floor, and others whom Tap-Out hadn’t bothered to meet because he was  _ pissed. _

“Glyph, they’re sending you on this mission alone!” he said.

“Not alone, just not with you. Big difference. The Cons are probably looking for the pair of you after Stormbreak. I need to not compromise you both,” Jazz said.

“Tap, it’s okay. I’m not even going to see combat on this mission. Just relax, okay?”

Tap-Out crashed down into a chair. “Fine fine. I’ll shut up.”

“Wow, you are so mad!” Glyph chided.

“ _ You  _ shut up too,” he said to her. They both grinned at each other.

“All right, all right, little buddies,” Jazz started. “Here’s the plan. Thanks to the data we got from Operation: Stormbreak, we know where Decepticon Intelligence is located.” Everyone in the room turned to face the middle of the room; the warm yellow-orange ambient light faded to reveal a hologram schematic of a nondescript cubical building called “The Division of Truth”.

“Wow, so that’s it? It’s in Helex?” Lightspeed asked.

“Yep. Gotta be it,” Ironworks said. “Look at all the energon flowing to keep that thing running. It could power a tenth of Cybertron by itself.”

“We also got network passwords, trust keys, and all communi-cube chats over the past 6 lunar cycles,” Jazz continued. “We also confirmed that only a few ‘Cons patrol the place; if there were a ton of’em, then they’d call attention to themselves. Just Pounce and Wingspan most of the time. We even have their shift data from Scrounge’s recordings.” Tap-Out quickly glanced over at Glyph at the mention of their lost friend.

“This all brings me to our recruit Spiral right here.” Spiral had climbed atop the table, and Jazz patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t get it twisted now--Spiral’s an Autobot through and through. But she didn’t register officially yet, no Rite of Autobrand yet, because it’ll be easier for her to get into the Division building pretending to do requested maintenance. We’re pretty sure the ‘Cons monitor all Space Bridge and Trans-time portal usage here. With our help, she’s gonna get to a Decepticon terminal, hack in, and see if we can find out where the portal accident sent Optimus Prime. Got it?”

Spiral said something that sounded like beeps and boops to Tap-Out, but he figured that Glyph could understand her because he watched her chuckle to herself.

“Plus we gon’ need you to translate her too. All we know is basic ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. I bet you already figured out what she’s saying. Right?”

Tap-Out nudged Glyph’s shoulder and she nudged him back.

“I don’t see Blaster here,” she said. “How are we all going to communicate with each other?”

“He’s not here, but we’ve got some of his tapes helping us out,” Jazz replied. He tapped a communicator on the side of his head and said, “Yo, Graphy, you readin’ me?”

Very high above the Division of Truth, the red pteranodon replied over Jazz’s speakers to the rest of the crowd. “KAW! I can hear you, roger roger ready to go!”

Ironworks winced. “Do you really have to make that awful sound?”

“KAW! Shut up I can do what I want haha! kaKAW!”

Jazz shook his head. “Man, this group...Graphy is going to relay our messages in real time over Blaster’s protocol and network us all together. The Cons will only detect encrypted data that will look like gibberish to them. Now, assuming Spiral makes it in there, we need someone to look at whatever Decepticon programming language they got over there. That’s you, Glyph. I’m gonna put you real close so that communication with Spiral is stronger and you can get clear images of their language, got it?”

“Yes, no problem,” she replied. 

“Then with that knowledge, our programmer Chromedome’ll simulate the programs the Cons are running and see if we can figure out where Optimus is.”

Without looking away from his terminal, Chromedome nodded and kept typing.

Ironworks left and quickly returned to the room, holding a handful of thin, almost invisible communicators. “Okay, Put these over your optics. If I got Wheeljack’s blueprints right, we’ll be able to talk with each other over Graphy’s network.”

“All right team. Equip and move out. The gig is a go in 20 breems. Glyph, check this map: here’s the storehouse you’ll be working from. Let’s go break something.”

But Tap-Out knew where Glyph was going to be stationed. Last time, he had almost lost her, and it might be worth breaking protocol to make sure it doesn’t happen this time.

***

Glyph could finally see the Division of Truth as she drove towards the empty storehouse, a few kliks from the great, nondescript building. She felt a chill spread through her that had nothing to do with the cold night. She focused on the hum of her own engine. It sounded like a drummer practicing drum rolls under her hood. The vibration soothed her and calmed her down a bit.

She transformed behind the storehouse. “Glyph: checking in,” she whispered over intra-Autobot radio.

“We gotcha,” Jazz replied back at Ironworks base. “Just waitin' for Spiral to get started.”

“Is Tap-Out okay?”

“Oh you can hear him pacing in the next room, whoo boy.” She heard laughter in the background. 

Through a shutter, Glyph could see a tiny car headed towards a maintenance access at the Division. Must’ve been Spiral. In her comms, she heard the very odd beep-and-boop language she spoke. It wasn’t Neo-Cybex, it wasn’t Old High Cybertronix, maybe a semantically-enhanced binary? Every word she said, the more she understood.

“Symbol. Waiting-you?”

“I’m ready, Spiral. A little afraid, honestly. A lot, honestly.”

“Self-fear source all-fear, Symbol.”

“Sounds wise.”

“Camera-lens atop forehead. See with my eyes?”

Glyph could see a direct feed from Spiral, patched through her own optical circuitry via Wheeljack’s communicator. 

Spiral walked towards the Division access portal. Pounce and Wingspan were standing guard.

She heard Jazz wondering. “That’s weird. We know Pounce and Wingspan are there, but that means the rest of the base must be unguarded…?” 

She heard Ironworks’ dour tone. “I don’t like it, Jazz. Something’s not right.”

Spiral kept walking forward; she knew it would look suspicious to turn around within view of the Clones.

“Glyph. I stand before the twin guardians. Applying secret keys.” 

Pounce or Wingspan glared down and scanned her. “Heh, look, Wingspan. This junkheap clearly needs the shanix. She’s been here 3 times this cycle.”

Wingspan or Pounce replied, “Aww let it in. I’m sure you left nasty rust spots where you sit.” And he shoved the little Autobot in.

“Spiral, are you okay?” Glyph asked.

“Aye, Glyph, aye. Worry not for me, for I am born of proud stardust, and ere the night is through, I shall return  _ them _ to dust.”

Jazz spoke up. “I’m assuming everything is okay, Spiral and Glyph. Spiral, get up that maintenance shaft and make your way to data storage.”

“I will show you the meaning of haste, sir!” Everyone in Ironworks base, and Glyph in the storehouse, could see through Spiral’s optics as she climbed up the dark stairs.

When she reached the data center, what they saw made Lightspeed knock over his datapads again. Tap-Out stared at the screen with a gaping mouth.

Dozens,  _ dozens  _ of Clones. They walked around the data center, they sat at terminals, they stood guard, they teased maintenance bots.

There were 108 Decepticon clones in the data center.

“By Prima’s hilt!” beeped Spiral over intra-Autobot radio.

“Jazz, we need to abort. We weren’t planning on this,” Ironworks urged.

“Graphy! How come you didn’t pick up all these clones?” Jazz yelled. 

“SQWAK! Sensors only detect two unique sparks! Don’t yell at me! SQWAAAK!”

“Spiral, take it easy, real quiet. Just take your time and look for an empty terminal. If you don’t find one, finish the work and get outta there.”

“Aye. I’m in the cavern of death and I’ve only an echo with me.” Spiral walked around the room, looking for work to do, and started picking up discarded half-empty energon cubes. As she walked, she turned her gaze towards terminals where Clones were working. Glyph could see snippets of text.

_ Okay,  _ she thought.  _ Time to get to work. _

She stared at the screen, and let her mind relax. She began to see symbols rearrange into syntax trees. Parsers in her mind formed semiotic representations. She saw the base-83 numbers. She saw how their language had coding structures built around  _ conquest  _ and  _ ends-force-the-means. _

She acquired Destrix, a Decepticon programming language, in 34 seconds.

Then she began to read the programs and bulletins on the terminals, through Spiral’s optics:

_ Ratbat initiative gamma: Exaggerate fuel shortages to justify attacks on fuel reservoirs and recruit neutrals _

_ Lord Coward Truth Update: Autobot Code is repressive and prevents Cybertron from being powerful _

_ All leaders except Lord Starscream: approval of stealth mission “Project Starstream” _

[One Clone was actually playing a video game, entitled  _ Mystery of Megatron _ ]

_ Scorponok Creation Matrix reverse engineering effort: 12th failure _

_ Shockwave sparkless Insecti-clone beta test: successful [Wingspan and Pounce, 108 viable clones] _

_ Shockwave sparkless Wingspan-Pounce clone expansion: in progress [10,000 clones] _

Finally, Spiral found an unoccupied terminal.

“Okay, Chromedome, you’re up,” Jazz said at base.

Chromedome sighed. “You know I hate doing this, but okay.” He pressed his hands to his keyboard, and mnemosurgery circuits flowed through the Ironworks network, through Graphy, and into Glyph’s mind!

“Oh, wow,” Chromedome said. “You already acquired the whole language! All right, I’m going to write a search program in Destrix with the knowledge in Glyph’s mind, and with Wheeljack’s communicators, Spiral should be able to execute the program  _ just by looking at the screen.” _

“This is insane,” Ironworks said. “You came up with this plan? You’re insane.”

Jazz said nothing this time. And then, “Okay, Domey. How much longer till the code is done?”

“Right about...give me a minute…now! And don’t call me ‘Domey’.”

Spiral stared at the empty terminal screen, which suddenly lit up with strange Destrix symbols.

30% complete. 40%. 50%.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Jazz said.

90%. 99%.

And then pain. Searing, hot pain. It flooded through Spiral, Glyph, and Chromedome.

“What the Pit is going on?” Jazz shouted. “Chromedome!”

Lightspeed ran over to him. “He’s--he’s got some kind of feedback loop--”

“Dammit! Graphy, come in! Graphy, cut the network!” 

“...SQWAK?” 

“Do it, dammit! Head to rendezvous point Omega!” Jazz said.

He did. The communicators went silent, and they could see nothing about what was going on.

“We’re compromised. They were expecting us! We have to assume we’ve been traced and so has Glyph. We have to regroup--”

“No,” said Ironworks. “I’m not leaving my base.”

“Ironworks!” Jazz pleaded. “You can build another--”

“I said no! Go, now! They’re on their way here. Special Ops can’t be caught right now! If this is the end for me, I’ll say hi to Scrounge.”

“Fine! Lightspeed, can you carry Chromedome? Get him to our other forward base-- _ you know where--don’t say it in case things are compromised here.  _ I’ll meet up with you soon.”

Lightspeed transformed into car mode. “When are you joining us?”

Jazz placed Chromedome on Lightspeed’s hood and applied a magnetic clamp. “After I go extract our friends. Get outta here!”

He drove off. Jazz spun around, looking for Tap-Out. “Where’d Tap go?”

Ironworks pointed to a radar display. “There.” 

On the screen, they saw a little green dot already halfway to Helex.

***

Glyph jolted awake. She was still in the empty storehouse, alone on the ground. Every neural network in her mind screamed pain. Her right arm was stiff. All she could see were the painful red words that flashed in front of her and Spiral before they blacked out:

_ We have you now. _

The words carried an optical logic bomb, causing the words to repeat infinitely in her mind until her mental software crashed. The attack targeted  _ her.  _ Someone knew her abilities. Surely Spiral and Chromedome were struck with what hit her.

“Jazz?” she called over radio “Spiral? Anybody?” There was no response. 

She glanced out the window and immediately jumped away.

About 10 Wingspans and Pounces were headed directly towards her.

She burst out of the storehouse and tried to run, but it was too late. Pumas and eagles surrounded her. One puma stalked forward and transformed.

“Ahh, so you must be the girly with all the wordies,” the puma said. “I’m Pounce, you must know. And before I tear you open and eat you one circuit at a time, I want you to know your little friend in there is gonna get the same treatment. And yeah, Shockwave was right: that geek figured out exactly where you guys were going to attack next. Your little base is destroyed by now.”

Glyph kept backing away until she heard two pumas growling behind her.

“So, if you wanna live for a little longer, you can tell me some good stuff, like where are all Special Ops’s bases? Or where’s Prowl and Autobot Tactical? Yes, we know about them. How about Chromia and the ‘Targetmaster Club’? Huh? Can’t talk? Aren’t you good with words?”

Pounce motioned to his two clones behind her. “Leapcrash! Jumpscare! Restrain her!” Each puma grabbed her wrists in its jaws. Her sore right arm felt like it was going to come off.

“Look at you, frozen in terror.”

“I’m not frozen,” Glyph said. “I’m  _ thinking. _ ”

“What?”

Then, in Destrix, she spoke a program: “< _ Leapcrash! Jumpscare! Shut down immediately!>” _

Both pumas dropped to the ground, quietly.

Pounce was stunned. “Uh! Uh! Hop-On! Headstomp! Attack!” And to the Wingspan clones flying overhead: “Wideglide! Stretchfeather! Longwing! Help!”

“Thanks for giving me their names. Now they can suffer the same fate.”  _ Suffer the same fate?  _ She managed to think. She didn’t think she was good at impromptu hero talk.

“ _ <All of you except for Pounce: sleep.> _

They all turned off, the eagles crashing to the ground.

Pounce aimed two blasters at her. “Stay back! I’m not one of them! Your trick won’t work on me!”

“Maybe, maybe not. Do you want to find out, though?” She cradled her right arm as she took a step forward.

He turned and ran, being too afraid to transform into a much faster puma mode.

_ I’m alive,  _ she thought.  _ I just lived through all that.  _ The chill she’d been feeling all night was gone. Her oil inside felt warm, but not from heating.

As she looked around in astonishment, she saw someone drive up--she tensed herself--

\--but it was Tap-Out. He flipped, transforming in mid-air and landing in a grapple stance, he said, “Glyph! All right, let’s get ready...to…I’m here to...huh?” He stood up and looked around with confusion. “You got them all! None left for me?”

She ran to him and hugged him. “You’re right on time. But we have to go save Spiral! Where is everyone?”

“I...don’t know. As soon as I heard you scream, I drove off to find you. Is Spiral still in that building?”

“I hope she’s safe if so, let’s go--wait a minute.” She knelt down by one of the clones. “ _ <Wake up, Longwing. I need to ask you a few questions.> _ ”

***

Lord Starscream paced up and down the data center. “Where  _ are  _ they? Shockwave said the spies should have been here by now! Him and his ‘impeccable predictions’!”

He pointed his null ray to the small robot at his feet, who only responded in beeps and boops. He took a dynamic stance, raised his other fist into the air and kept looking back and forth at the main entrance.

Wingspan--the  _ real _ Wingspan--stood in front of him, guns aimed at the entrance. “My Lord, are...you posing?”

“Where are they?!”

“Behind you!” Jazz emerged from an overhead vent in the ceiling. Lord Starscream and the clones whirled around and aimed weapons at him.

“Ah, Jazz! We’ve been expecting you! And to think the silly goofball was in Special Ops all along!”

“Starscream. I want you to know somethin’, all right?” He dropped his weapon and slowly walked forward. “All your success is caused by us, and by us I mean  _ my team.  _ Makin’ you the leader basically means you ‘Cons are gonna rot yourselves out and collapse any day now! I appreciate how much you help the Autobots!”

Lord Starscream’s arm shook violently as he restrained himself from firing. Then came the twisted smile. “Let’s cut to the chase. I sense you came here because you’re desperate for--for this  _ thing  _ here,” he said, pointing to Spiral.

“I got a trade for you.” From his hood, Jazz produced a small bluish-white cassette. “All the info you want about Autobot Tactical--Prowl’s unit. For Spiral.”

Spiral beeped in protest.

Lord Starscream laughed. “You take me for a fool! All of this information is garbage, surely! You think to play the same trick on us that we played on you hapless idiots?”

“Prowl knows that Special Ops has to exist, even if the rest of the Autobots are compromised. And I’ll turn myself in too. But you have to let Spiral go.”

“You’re stalling for something. You’re crafty. What is it, Jazz?” He pressed the null ray against Spiral’s head. 

“Here, take it.” Jazz slid the cassette to Lord Starscream’s feet. He picked up the cassette. “You fool! Why shouldn’t I just keep this  _ and  _ kill her?”

Jazz snapped his fingers.

The cassette transformed into a dinosaur.

Lord Starscream staggered backwards, shouting “Dinobot cassette! Dinobot cassette!” as it bit his arm. In the melee, Jazz rushed forwards to scoop up Spiral.

He had less than a second before the clones started attacking. If he threw Spiral through a view port, she may not survive the long fall to the ground. But it was his only option to get her out of here. He began to wind up--

“Clones, attack!” Wingspan screamed.

But the clones didn’t attack. In fact, they slowly walked to their seats.

“Clones?” Wingspan wondered.

“My arm! My arm! My arm!” Lord Starscream repeated. Eventually he flung the little dinosaur to the ground. His mouth kept chomping and making a  _ cling-clang _ sound over and over again. 

“Starscream, meet Noise! I think he likes you!”

“I will not be done in by a cassette! Clones, I order you to attack! Wingspan!”

Wingspan aimed his weapon at Jazz, but then he saw several shapes descending towards the view port above him--

\--and three Wingspan clones crashed through, slamming into him and into the terminals in the data center. One of the clones skidded to a stop right in front of Jazz. Atop one of the clones were--

“Tap and Glyph! Now that’s what I’m talkin about!” Jazz said. “Y’all here to pick me up?”

Lord Starscream ran from the dinosaur, shooting behind him. Finally, he rose into the air and flew through the hole made by the attacking clones.

“He’ll be back with reinforcements,” Jazz said. “Let’s get outta here!”

“Wait!” Glyph said, wincing from the pain in her arm. “Didn’t you wonder why these clones all just decided to sit down? They’re all on the same internal network! I used their trick and sent a program through one of them to tell  _ all  _ of them to ‘be good and sit down’. Now I’ll have time to get the portal logs around when Prime disappeared!”

“No time, we gotta go!” Noise transformed back into a cassette and landed in Jazz’s hand. “Roll out everybody!” Jazz and Spiral drove down a dark set of stairs.

“C’mon!” Tap-Out said to Glyph. 

“Just a little more time! Go on, I’ll catch up! Gotta find Prime!”

Tap-Out took one last look. “Okay. You know the rendezvous point. See you…” He followed the others.

And only a moment later, she found it. Prime’s portal destination coordinates. She memorized them instantaneously.

“< _ Longwing _ !>” she called out. A damaged eagle clone walked over to her. She jumped onto its back and they flew through the hole in the ceiling. 

She made it.  _ She made it.  _ She looked down at the burning data center one more time. Suddenly the pain in her right arm surged so much, it was too much, she could barely hold on--

Then her arm exploded. 

She careened to the ground, her arm mangled. Thinking was useless against such pain. She had never been shot before, but she never imagined it would hurt this much. She tried to remember anything that would give her relief--Beachcomber’s words--

_ Vent. Vent in, vent out. Stillness in the vast sky. We all carry a little Matrix inside ourselves. We all carry creation within and without. Vent in, and vent out. _

Vent in, vent out. She stumbled to her feet.

Directly in front of her was a Decepticon with four red wings, aiming a rifle at her. 

“Well, now. If it ain’t the little lady that ambushed me and learned how I talked. Guess you know who I am, since you and your friend copied me so well.”

She couldn’t move. He walked toward her slowly. “You’re probably wondering what happened to your arm.” He tapped the rifle on his other arm. “Tachyon rifle. She’s a weird gun, this one here. When I aim it, it lets me see the future of my target. Or the past. I don’t really have control over it, and it doesn’t always work. But Primus works in mysterious ways, you know?” He pointed the rifle at her and she couldn’t help but flinch. “Looks like I got ya, though. Must’ve shot ya in your future. Bet that arm’s been hurtin’ all night, huh?”

He kept walking forward. “Sometimes you get shot before  _ I pull the trigger. _ ”

She tried to ignore his gloating. She had the location of Optimus Prime and needed to pass it off securely to someone. Should she risk sending the data over intra-Autobot radio? Would Shockwave or Soundwave intercept her transmission? She couldn’t think straight. She kept it to herself.

“Anything to say for yourself?” he said, standing over her. Two Wingspan clones arrived.

“Go to the Pit,” she replied, and her face was twisted in pain and frustration and anger. He looked at that face for a moment. For several moments, in fact. He had the sensation that he recognized something there.

“You and the yellow one, Scrounge. You killed Frontstab. You’re going to  _ suffer the same fate _ .”

“And Frontstab tortured my friend for deca-cycles! Mega-cycles! I won’t let that keep happening!”

He couldn’t stop looking at her face.

He retracted the rifle into his arm and his hand re-emerged. “Take her back to Kolkular for questioning. She can say one last goodbye to Scrounge while we’re there.” He turned from her and rocketed into the air, transforming into jet mode and speeding off even faster. 

The two clones grabbed her and followed him. The last memory she had before stasis set in was the deep chill she felt as they moved farther and farther from the burning building.

***

Through binoculars two miles away, Ironworks held a detonator as he watched his base start to crumble.

He could see a crazed Decepticon cackling and shooting it to pieces. Puma and eagle clones had gathered items of interest and were destroying the rest. His favorite tools. A gift from Fixit. All the letters and tough advice from Nickel. All gone, up in smoke and scattered ash.

Jazz stood next to him. “Do it.”

Ironworks pressed the detonator in his hand. The base shuddered and exploded in 10 places. He saw clones scrambling. The large radar dish became unhinged and fell atop the screaming, crazed Decepticon.

Ironworks hoped she’d choke on that dish.

“Look, man. I’m sorry,” Jazz started. “I’m glad you changed your mind. But I know it ain’t easy.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it. Let’s just go. Tell me about this rendezvous point.”

“Everyone else is already there. One of the Guardian Robots defected from ‘Con Security. The one guarding Crystal City. No one else knows. Something about him just flipped after the Constructicons smashed it, and he contacted me and Prowl a while back. Prime held him in reserve--for times like these. He’s got a nice base mode we can hide in for a while.”

“And Glyph?”

“She hasn’t checked in. Most likely she got nabbed by Decepticons. Going after her is priority number one.”

“Is that because she probably knows where Prime is? Or because Tap-Out will kill you when he finds out she’s missing?”

Jazz sighed. “Gon’ be a long night.”

He and Jazz transformed and drove away--unable to hear the faint cackling under the rubble of Ironworks base.

(to be continued)

  
  
  
  



	3. The Faceless Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tap-Out is desperate to save Glyph, but his confidence in saving her is shaken. He returns to his old master Yoketron for support before raiding Decepticon headquarters. But can he endure the final lesson?

Tap-Out raced across Cybertron as fast as he could. At the moment, he didn’t feel like a living creature so much as a collection of wheels and pistons and engines carrying him. He forced his mind to ignore his exhaustion and tedium and focus on getting to Yoketron’s lair.

Following him in the air was the little red pteranodon Graphy, scrambling Decepticon radar scans. 

“SQWAAAK! The Decepticons are really killing me here with these signals. Just re-routed about a hundred of them, RAAAK! They’re ramping up the search for us! Must’ve really pissed Starscream off eh? Ehhhh?”

Tap-Out said nothing.  _ Just focus on these wheels. Every spin gets you to Yoke. He’s got to help me save Glyph.  _

“...WAAK?” Graphy started. “No snappy comeback?” followed by softer but still loud cooing sounds. “Ya know, when Prowl finds out I’m gone, he’s gonna be mad at me too! That counts for something? Eh? SQWAK?”

“Sorry, buddy. It’s just...they’ve got her at Kolkular. And...I can’t think too hard about what they’re doing to her. Just gotta keep going.” After a few more minutes of silence: “She saved my life. Not just my actual, physical life...she sat with me for cycles after I got out of that prison. I didn’t talk for...scrap, I don’t even remember how long anymore. I just... _ I don’t do well with prison. I can’t let her go through that.” _

“Shoulda waited for Prowl to make a plan. You really think the best use of your time is getting training?”

“He would’ve done a whole cost-benefit analysis for a whole vorn before doing anything. He’ll probably just decide she’s acceptable loss or something like that. Besides, scrap you! You couldn’t wait to get away from him either!” he said chuckling.

“SQWAK you too!”

Tap-Out had finally reached Lower Tagan. The manufacturing capital of Cybertron had become a vast slum long ago, when he first trained here with Yoke and the other students. Now it was somehow worse: nearly completely abandoned, millennia of production amounting to no more than chunks of rusty machinery.

It was still home. He could drive around this area with no optics and never get lost. He drove directly to Yoke’s old lair, a decrepit warehouse full of empty energon cubes and mining equipment. He transformed into robot mode, the back of his legs and arms uncomfortably hot from the long drive. Graphy landed on his shoulder, preening his wings, chewing small bits of debris that had gotten stuck on them.

Standing in front of Yoke’s lair were two robots. A large purple and yellow robot yelled over to Tap-Out, “Hey. Nothin’ for you here. Get going.”

“I used to train here,” Tap-Out replied. “Where’s Yoke?”

The two robots exchanged glances. “Little oil-spot like you, train with Yoke? I said get outta here.”

“kaKAW! You must not know who Tap-Out is. He’s gonna get ya for that” Tap-Out turned to his shoulder and whispered, “C’mon, really?”

Purple-and-Yellow walked over slowly with a big smile on his face. As he approached, one of his arms changed into a big clamp, and the other into a net. “Oh he’s gonna beat my skid plate is he now?”

“SQWAK! I could see you from 10 kliks away and I already knew you were a punk!”

“Graphy!” Tap-Out said sternly.

“Okay look this was a boring trip! Do something already!” He transformed into a data jamming device, and Tap-Out slid him into his chest compartment. 

“Sorry about my friend there, um...didn’t catch your name?” Tap-Out said, looking up at the robot towering over him. He moved slowly, his body and hydraulics fully relaxed.

“Why would I tell my name to a dead ‘bot?” The large robot shoved him.

“Hey. You’re gonna want to knock that off,” Tap-Out said calmly. “Now, why don’t you or your friend over there tell me where Yoke is?”

The big robot’s clamp arm shot out towards him. In one motion, Tap-Out grabbed the arm and sidestepped to the robot’s left, throwing him off-balance until he fell face-first on the ground.

“I’d rather you not beat yourself up like that,” Tap-Out said, looking away while brushing off his shoulder where he’d been shoved. From within, a tiny voice squeaked, “Scrap yeah, KAKAW!”

The big robot got to his feet quickly and tried to throw his net over Tap-Out. The little green Autobot used the wheels on his feet to roll  _ toward  _ him, leaping at him. As he sailed past the big robot’s head, he curled his arm around the robot’s neck, slamming him forcefully onto his back. Something broke inside the robot with an awful snap. The big robot didn’t scream but did grit his teeth.

“You need to listen to me,” Tap-Out said, tightening his grip in a headlock. “I spent vorns, and I mean  _ vorns,  _ in a Decepticon prison. All I did was fight. I’m not exaggerating. If I didn’t fight, I would’ve died. So don’t come at me with this weak trash you call wrestling. Where the scrap is Yoke?”

The other smaller robot was on his feet, tense and ready to attack. “Blamma Slamma, give it up! This guy’s serious!”

Tap-Out looked down at the robot in the chokehold. “Blamma Slamma, really? All the good names are gone, huh?” He released Blamma, who rolled away to recover. He looked at the other robot. “I know you,” Tap-Out said. “You’ve Vanishing, aren’t you?”

“My name’s Trip-Up now!” the green and grey robot shouted. “You heard about me? You know how I bust heads?” He raised both palms up, ready for grappling.

“You were just some street punk back in the day. Did Yoketron take you in too? Did he fix whatever was wrong with you?” Tap-Out walked towards him slowly and leisurely.

“Take this seriously!” Trip-Up yelled. “Gonna flatten you!”

“All I want to know is where Yoke is. I know he’s here, because that’s his grapple stance you’re using. Is he safe? Is he okay?”

Trip-Up rushed at him. Tap-Out saw a punch coming, and  _ merged  _ with it; Trip-Up’s arm was  _ his  _ arm now, and he pinned Trip-Up with a double underhook. Trip-Up scrambled away and tried again and again. Pinned again by Inferno’s Carry. Pinned again by a Sludge Strangle.

“Scrap!” Trip-Up said, leaning on the side of the warehouse, 

“Does this sound familiar?  _ Your side is wide open, Trip-Up.  _ Or maybe:  _ where does your attack begin? In your fist? In your mind? _ Yeah, that kinda stuff pisses me off too. But Yoke trained me the same way. So would you knock it off and take me to him?”

A tall, thin robot stood at the entrance to the warehouse. “Disrespectful as always!”

“Yoketron!” Tap-Out cried. “Are these your latest students?”

“Tap. I told you that once you left that you were never to return. You must leave.”

“I know. I know you said that. But I’m back because I need your help. I need to save Glyph from the Decepticons, and I know I can do it--if you teach me your final lesson. And I’m not leaving until you do.”

* * *

Tap-Out sat as patiently as he could, in the “Hibernate Pose”, legs folded under thighs. Yoke had exited the large room a moment ago to ensure the building was protected and shielded from detection. Trip-Up and Blamma Slamma had been dismissed.

“Forgive the delay,” Yoke said. “You can never be too sure in times like these.”

Tap-Out sat perfectly still, optics boring into his old master.

“Ah, yes,” Yoke said. “This business about my training you. I told you that such a thing is impossible when you chose to leave last time.”

“I  _ had  _ to leave, Yoke. The Autobots were making their big push. Battle of Jin-ja, remember? I had to go.”

“It was still your choice. And I told you then as I’m telling you now: my training cannot be interrupted. Whatever you are now is what you are meant to be. I have nothing further to give you.”

“No, no that’s not true. There was the last lesson you had for me. It had some cool name, like ‘Unseen Fist’ or ‘Infinite in the Mundane’.” Tap-Out looked around at all the weapons on the wall of the warehouse. He remembered their names: “Heavy Pulley”, the great hammer; “Fallenbane” the dagger; “Leaning Fulcrum” the ancient sword.

“Is it one of these weapons?” Tap-Out asked. “Or some armor? Some weird power boost you need to unlock? What is it?”

“Anything else I can say to you would be useless because of your desperation for that...Glyph, is it? As long as you are preoccupied with her, you carry an open wound that will become your undoing.”

“Every moment I sit here with you, I could be going after Glyph. I’m not going to let this go, ‘master’.”

“Maybe you should go back to your Autobots. They can help you now.”

Tap-Out stood now. “Is that what’s going on? You never forgave me for joining them, didn’t you?”

Yoke also stood. “Things have changed.”

“Oh, good. Get all vague on me. Just talk to me straight.”

“The Autobots and Decepticons are each destroying this world, trying to impose their own order. The only way out is to destroy that order.  _ That  _ is your final lesson, young Tap. Smash them to pieces.”

“What the Pit happened to you?”

He assumed a stance, the “Alpha Centauri Fist”. “You know the rules, Tap. If you want a lesson, you have to land a blow. I’ll tell you if you manage to even wound me.”

Tap-Out chose “Eager Turbofox” and sprang towards Yoke. Every punch, every kick, every attempt to grapple was dodged, with only microseconds to spare.

“Your hurry has ruined any chance you had at victory.” Yoke placed both hands behind his back. “Come again.”

Tap-Out clenched his fist for a moment, and his body began to quiver with energy. Then he unleashed the full force of the punch on Yoke, who chuckled as he stepped aside, and Tap-Out struck a wall.

“Very disappointing! Did you believe brute force would reach me?” The wall behind him began to crumble, and that’s when Yoke realized what had happened.

The adjoining room held equipment--now damaged--that was transmitting signals on Decepticon frequencies. Yoke turned to see the damaged wall, and in that precise moment between thought and action, Tap-Out threw his strongest punch, striking him in the arm.

Yoke moved away quickly, but looked only mildly disappointed. “How did you know?”

“While you were back there, a little friend of mine who’s great at signal detection told me something was very wrong,” he said, patting his chest, getting a tiny squawk in response. 

“Ah,” replied Yoke, almost disinterested, then he looked at his arm again. “That...was a Yussian punch?” He held his bicep, which then shattered.

But the bicep was only a shell. Underneath was a green tank tread.

“Now I know. You can’t be Yoke. What happened to him?  _ And who the Pit are you, Decepticon? _ ”

The shell that was Yoketron bisected down the middle, and a green and purple robot emerged. He smiled. 

“ _ Who are you!? _ ” Tap-Out screamed, but his only answer was a sharp, stinging blow to his back, knocking him onto the ground before the robot. Tap-Out turned to see the new assailant: a strange orange and maroon shell and a skull-like face, holding the “Leaning Fulcrum” sword.

“This is another shell of mine; I call him  _ Bludgeon _ ,” the robot said. “But in a way, I  _ am  _ Bludgeon.” He crouched down on one knee, grinning down at Tap-Out. “I told you to never return. Watching you leave helped me make my decision to change, you see. You told me you left to restore Cybertron to the Golden Age, or something foolish like that. You think this war has gone on too long? You think things were better back in the Golden Age? No! There was no Golden Age! It was just an Autobot fiction that  _ ignores all the things they really did _ . And if one of my own students could fall for such a deception, I knew that I would have to try a different path.”

Tap-Out jumped up and backward, but felt like he was swimming in oil. His optics had a lag, blurring the robot and his two shells just in front of him. He heard Graphy's frantic squawks, confirming that radio signals were passing between Bludgeon and his shells.

“My other shell has a poison spike in its foot,” the robot said. “You must be feeling it. Oh, put your hands down, you fool! There’s nothing you can do now.” The sword-holding shell opened up and the robot stepped inside. 

“Where’s...Yoke…?”

“By Metallikato, you’re slow!  _ There never was any Yoketron. He was always me.  _ I told you that I would resist everyone’s attempts to impose order. I will balance it with chaos and mayhem. I’m teaching it to my new students, and the Decepticons give me free reign.” He sheathed his sword. “I will not ask you to join me; I know your Autobot Code prohibits it. So take this to your death, Autobot: Glyph is dead, and your weakness, your trying to save her alone, has slain her.”

Anguish lashed across Tap-Out’s face.

“Yes, yes that’s it. When everything you’re attached to is gone, what remains? If I strip your armor, your servos and cogs and spark, what remains? This is true Emptiness, my final gift to you!”

As Bludgeon raised his sword, Tap-Out jumped away from him toward the shell of Yoketron--

\--and in one motion, removed the red data jammer out of his chest compartment, plunging it into Yoketron’s head!

Immediately, Bludgeon collapsed as he--via his other shell--was flooded with random garbage data.

“AAAAAH the voices, the voices! The auras! Ghosts! They’re coming--coming to get me! SHEEAGH!”

Yoketron’s face was immobile, faintly smiling as always.

Tap-Out yanked Graphy out of the shell and staggered through the entrance as though he were drunk on energon. He transformed into a car as Graphy flew overhead.

“SQWAK--follow my signal! We’re going back to Omega Supreme! That signal Bludgeon transmitted was requesting Decepticons to come take you away! That jerk! We gotta peel outta here!”

Tap-Out drove as best he could, leaving Lower Tagan behind forever. 

“You..you think Glyph is really dead?” Tap-Out slurred, the poison slowly wearing off.

“Everything he says is lies, RAAAK! His signal said that they were planning to add you to the interrogation list--which includes Glyph and Scrounge!”

“So maybe--just maybe--!”

“Yeah maybe, but he was right about one thing--you can’t go doing this by yourself! Prowl and Jazz will figure something out!”

“Right. You’re right.” After a long silence, he said, “Yoketron. He  _ saved  _ me at the end. Didn’t he?”

“ _ RAAAK _ . No, I did, you jerk!”

They meandered towards Omega Supreme, taking hours longer than it should have.

(to be continued)

  
  



	4. You're stuck in here with me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glyph is in jail. Starscream puts on a show and hires an assistant. Jazz has a rough day. The future catches up to Stormriser.

It took a long time for Glyph to return to consciousness. At least, it felt like a long time. She only felt residual pain circuits firing where her arm had been shot; her internal chronometer was completely scrambled and returning gibberish values. Voices were muffled, and her optics weren’t functioning.

A sharp yellow light pierced into her optics, jolting her fully awake.

She was in a transparent cell, crumpled on the ground. She tried to move but couldn’t. Standing on the other side of the cell was Shockwave. Despite her inability to move, she managed to shudder.

“At last, you awaken,” the scientist said. “Now we may begin.”

Strength returned to her slowly. The detention area was hexagonal in shape, like his head; behind the other five cells were pure carnage: destroyed Cybertronians, energon-starved Cybertronians, some half-melted, some mauled to pieces. There was a single bright light in the middle of the room.

This was not just a jail--it was Decepticon Interrogation / Experimentation. All Autobot Special Ops members were briefed on the possible existence of D.I/E; now it was confirmed beyond all doubt.

Her fuel pump began to work so quickly she thought it would burst.

“Your name is Glyph. You are an Autobot data miner. Linguist. Forensic analyst. But you have abilities that exceed this description, do you not?” Shockwave looked down at a data pad. “You have somehow deciphered Destrix, our infrastructure language. You have managed to encrypt your mind this time, since we are unable to extract information from you. You severely impeded operations at a clone factory recently. And you believe that you have…” --he took a moment to scan his data pad-- “...found the location of Optimus Prime, based on the search history of our data terminals.”

He stopped for a moment, surely computing something. “Fact: you are in Kolkular’s Carcera Maxima. Fact: your combat capabilities are nil. Fact: you have been a part of two recent raids on Decepticon territory and stolen massive quantities of intelligence.”

“Lemma: Your frequent companion Tap-Out has been discovered recently at Lower Tagan, surely dispatched by Bludgeon.” She tried and failed to hold back a gasp. “Conclusion: the desperate Autobots are surely preparing to rescue you, due to your data collection. Unfortunately for you, I will see to their termination  _ personally.” _

She started to speak, but Shockwave interrupted her. “Foolish Autobot. Your cell is one-way soundproofed to prevent the use of your powers. I can hear nothing you say.” Glyph touched her neck and the bottom of her head as though she were making sure they were still there.

She mouthed a response anyway:  _ if I can’t speak, we can’t bargain. _

Shockwave paused again. “Very well. I will temporarily remove the soundproofing. But if you try anything, you die. Understood? Who are the members of Autobot Special Ops? Where is the location of Autobot Command?  _ Where is Prowl and what are his plans? _ ” 

“I will never tell you anything. Did you deduce that already?”

Shockwave sighed. “Yes, with 98.9% probability. Motormaster, Wildrider: bring in Glyph’s guest.” 

The two Stunticons wheeled in a cage containing another almost-dead robot--

“Scrounge!” Glyph said.

“You have 20 breems to acquiesce, or he dies. Breakdown, you are on guard duty.”

As Shockwave walked away, he glanced at his data pad again. “Hmph, fascinating. It seems you were an instructor at Altihex University. I once taught there as well--a seminar on logic, a very long time ago.” He turned back towards her. “Glyph, I would like to appeal to your logical mind. It is irrational to suffer like this, denying me what I wish. I say this because  _ you don’t understand the effects of deep torture on a Cybertronian.  _ I am very thorough in my research. No matter how resilient the brain module, how powerful the mind, there is an upper limit to how much suffering a spark can withstand. Here, take this.”

He slid the data pad through the one-way cell shield. “These are my findings. These are records of the 17192 Autobots that have passed through my  _ pain research program  _ in the past vorn. I would like for you to examine the things they screamed, the pain they felt, the innovations in voltage harnesses and limits to spark casing blunt trauma that were developed. Please.  _ Read each line carefully.  _ Think about where you would fall on the spectrum.”

He transformed into a flying gun, and zoomed through a spaceport in the ceiling.

She looked at the data pad on the ground.

_ Don’t read it. Don’t. You don’t want to know. _

She stared at it.

_ Your curiosity will kill you. Don’t do it. _

She saw on the data pad:  _ Entry #17193: Glyph. Cause of death: pending. _

* * *

From his lodging in Kolkular, Stormriser watched Glyph over a closed-circuit monitor. He watched her curl up into a ball, watched her abruptly stand and throw a data pad at the force field in her cell, which bounced back and hit her in the shoulder. Behind him, on a recharging slab, was Collider, who was recovering after being nearly crushed to death by Ironworks base.

She stirred on the slab. “Storm...are you okay?”

He didn’t reply.

“Storm? What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” He switched off the monitor. “Really, nothing.”

“Will you come sit by me?”

Wordlessly, he walked over to her and sat, taking her hand.

_ She didn’t seem evil,  _ he thought. _ She was just helping her friends when I captured her. She wasn’t trying to kill those Decepticon clones when I shot her.  _

“Collider...what do you think about Starscream?”

“Think about him? He’s going to make us strong. He’s going to give us a new Golden Age. And we’ll be right there on top with him!” As she became more excited, her optics flashed red, but she quickly weakened and they became blue again, and she lay down again. “Are you going to be ready for his big media event this evening?”

Again, he didn’t answer, looking back at the empty screen for some time.

* * *

Jazz stared at an empty screen.

He sat in a chamber within Omega Supreme’s base mode. Other members of Special Ops would come in to speak with him, but for a dozen breems, they’d only find him staring at nothing, lost in thought. They’d ask if he were okay but the answer was clear: two of his operatives had been captured, and one almost quit to go on a suicide mission.

And that wasn’t all; Prowl was on his way over for a visit. 

Proximity alerts began to sound, and then the voice of Omega, surrounding him: “ _ Autobot Tactical ingress immanent. Blaster: disengage scrambling.” _

Down a hallway, he heard Blaster say, “I’m on it.”  _ Blaster used to be a fun guy _ , Jazz thought.  _ Now he sits in the Scrambling Room, handling signal processing for what’s left of the Autobots with Eject and Rewind. He sat in there all the time, his visor lowered, expecting the worst. Like all of us. _

_ All right _ , Jazz thought to himself.  _ Time to do this _ . He walked past the Scrambling Room and waved inside. Rewind said, “Hey Jazz? Any more news about Chromedome?” His optics didn’t move from monitoring security camera footage. 

“I’ll keep you posted, lil’ buddy. He’ll get better. I promise.” Rewind said nothing in response.

At the end of Omega’s Claw hallway, he found Minerva, leaning against a wall, staring outside.

“‘Ey! Minerva!”

“Jazz…” She turned to face him, and then turned away, her face motionless in grief. “We just lost another one. Highjump. He just told me his last words...I just...I can’t keep on like this…”

He put a palm on her shoulder. “Hey. It’s called care fatigue. You gotta stop. I know you did the best for ol’ Highjump. I bet he knew too. And you saved Tote  _ and _ Powertrain. Ironworks’ll be happy, you know?”

She nodded slowly, her gaze not leaving the ground.

“C’mon. Take some breems off. You gotta. Fixit’ll sub in for you.”

“Okay...thanks, Jazz.” As she walked away, he could see vehicles approaching in the distance. He could make out fifteen or so; they were probably Prowl’s hand-picked team. 

And then they suddenly appeared in robot mode, teleporting directly in front of him. 

Jazz reflexively reached for his photon rifle before he realized what had happened. “Hound! You and Mirage sure fooled me with that hologram!”

“We wanted to throw off any sensors from Shockwave that may have been detecting us. Sorry for the trick,” Hound said.

Prowl said nothing, looking around the base.

Jazz said, “Hey team! Welcome to Omega Supreme. I wish things were better, but I think we’re all safe here for now. Haven’t seen you guys in a long while!” He walked among them, pressing palms together in greeting, fistbumping others.

“Whoa, Jazz, you’re in charge of all this?” Cliffjumper asked.

“This base is a marvel of design,” Wheeljack mused.

“I like Omega’s paint job,” Sunstreaker said. “Blue and white, blends in with the other guardians too.”

“Enough of this,” Prowl said. “We need to talk, you and me, Jazz.”

“Yeah, I know. Gimme a minute. Where’s Bumblebee?”

“I left him with Roller at Tactical--the remains of Tactical,” Prowl said. “Bumblebee knows how to do his job properly. He’s reliable.”

Ratchet glared at Prowl. “Hey. Come on.”

Jazz and Prowl stared at each other. 

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll catch up with the rest of you guys later. Let’s talk, Prowl. Right now.”

* * *

Glyph had turned Shockwave’s data pad upside down, and did her best to avoid even glancing at the little yellow rectangle. In front of her one-way soundproof force field was Breakdown, who alternated between staring at her and frantically checking news updates on a portable device. He slowly rocked back and forth in a seat. Beyond him was Scrounge, inert and connected to a variable voltage harness.

She had to get out of there.

What did Prowl always tell her?  _ During an interrogation, you may feel powerless. But it is the information they want from you that gives you power.  _ She looked around at the other dead robots in this room and didn’t think she had much power.

What had Jazz said?  _ You’re never locked in there with them! They’re locked in there with you. What’s your solo gonna be? Always be thinking: what’s my mission? Even with a blaster to your head, you have a mission. _

_ “ _ All I have to do is get out of this cell, save Scrounge, and leave a heavily-guarded Decepticon fortress. That’s it. So easy, _ ”  _ she mouthed to herself. But the ludicrous idea broke through the fear. “Let’s try the obvious. Hey, Breakdown. Breakdown! Can you hear me?”

He didn’t respond. So far, so good.

“ _ <Force field> _ ,” she said in the language of force field generators and tractor beam systems, “ _ <I need to leave. Will you open, please?> _ ”

The door responded in bassy square-wave tones. “No no no cannot open;;for prisoner in cell.prisoners(): cell.open = impossible;;next-command?”

“ _ <Can I override settings so I can get out?>” _

“No absolutely-not no cannot override;;insufficient permissions;;next-command?”

Then Breakdown looked up and saw her faceplate moving. “Hey! HEY! No talking in there! Shut up!” he shouted. “Shockwave told you to read that data pad! Do it now, or I’ll be forced to  _ execrate you _ !”

She quickly picked up the data pad. He was going to be hyper-vigilant. While pretending to read, she asked the data pad in the Destrix language:

“ _ <Do you want to get out of here?>” _

It responded through a crude chiro-language through her fingertips. “Incorrect syntax: I only want to be read. I need to be read by someone. !--Do not toss me at force field again--! Escape is not being read.  _ Not prisoner.  _ !--Please read me--! acknowledge code 200.”

“ _ <Force field door: since Datapad here is not a prisoner, will you open so that I can return it to Master Shockwave?>” _

The door took a long moment to answer. She heard the sound of a computer running at high speed, venting exhaust.

“ERROR ??? ERROR !!! unit cannot answer question due to conflicting imperatives. PRISONER-NOT-LEAVE conflicts with NON-PRISONER-NEVER-IN-CELL ??? Logic error unknown exception thrown system reboot imminent !!! Reboot-complete, speak name, NEW-MASTER::;;???”

She hadn’t expected that. “ _ <My name’s Glyph. Nice to meet you!>” _

“New-master Glyph;;next-command?”

“ _ <I want you to open up when I say so, okay?>” _

“Acknowledged, New-master Glyph;;next-command?”

“ _ <Disable soundproofing.>”  _ There was an audible powering-down sound.

Breakdown jumped out of his seat. “Wh-what’s going on here!? I’m--help!  _ Reinfarcements!” _

“Hey. Hey! Relax,” Glyph said, ignoring his mispronunciation and smiling as she approached the force field of her cell. “I just wanted to have a  _ little chat with you _ .”

* * *

Jazz shoved Prowl into the empty room. “What’s your problem? Callin’ me out like a punk out there, in front of everyone?” 

Prowl shrugged off Jazz’s grip. “It’s more than you deserve! Look at us, scrambling all over Cybertron! When Megatron disappears, did the Decepticons fall apart? No! They had plans! They systematically took control, city after city. If you’re an Autobot right now, you’re  _ lucky  _ if you’re under ‘house arrest’. What happened to our leadership? Grimlock: out there doing whatever the scrap he feels like. Springer: putting himself in exile for what he did to Impactor. And Star Saber--”

“We can’t fix everything, Prowl!”

“We were Prime’s trusted team, you idiot! And we ruined it all! Thousands and thousands of vorns, of politics, of give and take and spies and battles, and all Prime has to do is vanish for a little bit, and  _ we all fall to pieces! _ None, and I mean  _ none  _ of my contingency plans were followed! No one wanted to prepare for this, and that’s why we have a purple Cybertron right now!”

“Yeah, we had some setbacks, sure, but we can’t blame ourselves for--”

“I blame  _ you,  _ Jazz! You think you can improvise a whole organization like this? You think it’s okay to just let operatives go solo at a time like this? Yes, I heard about Tap-Out. I show up here and see Minerva taking a break with wounded ‘bots right around the corner. I see hasty plans being made to cover up sloppiness. I see someone trying to be everyone’s friend and not making the hard decisions--”

Jazz backhanded him, sending him to the ground.

“Say it again, Prowl. Say it again! Call me weak!”

Prowl sat up. “Go ahead and hit me. Is attacking your own superior part of your ‘strategy’ these days?”

“You and I are  _ peers  _ when Prime’s Crisis Protocol kicks in, and you know it _.  _ You hate it, but you know it. Grimlock knew it too, and that’s why he refused to even work with you, isn’t it? Neither would the Estrelas or Pyra Magna.  _ You’re  _ the reason we all fragmented! And you know why? ‘Cause  _ you’re not Prime!” _

They scowled at each other. From the ground, Prowl could see behind Jazz’s visor, could see optics fixed on him. After an eternity, Jazz softened his expression. “And look, you’re not supposed to be. None of us are.” He reached a hand to Prowl.

Prowl took it, and stood up. “Everything we’ve worked for, just...it’s all just…” Prowl covered his forehead with his palm. “Prime was supposed to be our greatest strength, but he ended up being our weakness.”

“You wanna get him back or sit there whining about it?”

Prowl sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry for...all that, just now.”

“You make it sound like I don’t know you. I know you’re usually a prick, but I can tell when you’re also an overworked prick. Now, can we sit down, or do you need to flip a table first?” Prowl tried to withhold a snorty laugh. They both sat down on opposite ends of a table. Prowl started to speak, but Jazz raised a hand to silence him and said, “Hey, Omega, who’s right outside of our room right now?”

“Eavesdroppers include: Sideswipe, Gears, Huffer, Bluestreak, Spiral, Cliffjumper, Minerva, Trailbreaker--” and at the sound of Omega Supreme’s voice, Jazz and Prowl could hear sudden footsteps rushing away from the door. “Guess we put on a show,” Jazz said. 

“You trust him?” Prowl said, pointing up to the ceiling.

“Who? You mean, Omega? Never met someone willing to risk so much. Trust me.”

“Trustworthiness: undoubtable,” came a voice that surrounded them, to the point of rattling their seats.

“Fine, fine,” Prowl said. “I suppose you already have a plan for what to do about our missing assets.”

“Yeah.  _ Glyph and Scrounge,  _ I think you meant.”

“Yes, yes, of course. And as you guessed, I have plans. Four primary, sixteen backup plans.”

“Uh-huh. And who’s this motley crew you assembled? I know a lot of them, but there are some new faces.”

“Hand-picked by Prime and me a while back. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are new. It took a long time to convince Huffer and Mirage.”

“Where’s Roller?”

“He’s...not taking this well. He wanted to come, but...I can’t risk losing  _ more of Prime.” _

“So where’s Elita? Why isn’t she in here with us? She’s got our rank too.”

“You don’t think I asked her to join us? Ever since Prime left, she doesn’t really do ‘sitting inside’ anymore. I bet she’s on top of this base scouting for danger.”

“Confirmed,” came Omega’s voice.

“But she’s down for this gig, I’m guessin’? That’s why she’s here?”

“Yes, she’s approved for this  _ mission _ . I assembled the assets best suited for guerrilla warfare and extraction operations. What I need to know is what extra resources we can draw on here. What munitions can you supply?”

“Minerva’s been working on this new ‘transtector’ shell, kinda like a Pretender shell, just a husk you can import a ‘bot’s mind while the body’s being repaired. Spiral got some intel last mission about Decepticon cloning and Minerva was able to repurpose it. You want a clone army?”

“Not enough time to test. And Omega needs to stay here in case we need a fallback point.” Prowl sighed while in deep thought. “Half the team out there wants to leap right into battle. I have a thousand team members who volunteer to die right now, and none of them want to suffer in patience without Prime.”

“You have all these plans, and you have all these guys who have crazy powers. Almost all the players are right here. Let me take them in, and you conduct. Just like the old days.”

“Let  _ you  _ take them in. And risk losing what Glyph knows about Prime’s location.”

“Hey, when we rescue Prime from wherever he is, you can tell him you led the mission.” Jazz grinned. “Let’s call in Elita, give her some good news.”

“Tactical and Special Ops, working together again. What a world,” Prowl said, shaking his head.

Omega’s proximity alarm flared. “Hey, look,” said Jazz. “That would be the last player--a ‘bot who’ll follow our instructions perfectly to save our friends.” On a display, Jazz and Prowl saw Tap-Out arriving at top speed.

* * *

Glyph knew she had exactly one chance to pull this off. Breakdown was cringing, holding a pistol pointing directly at her. One mistake and she would die. She decided to put her perfectionism to good use.

“Breakdown,” she said quietly.

“D-don’t talk! I know you have word powers!  _ You’ll turn me inside out!” _

Glyph held her hands up and avoided direct eye contact. “I only wanted to tell you about Shockwave’s  _ secret plan for you. _ ”

Breakdown visibly shuddered. “N-no...I knew it…”

In a low voice, she said to the datapad: “<Search and replace: Glyph-with-Breakdown.>”

“What did you say?!”

“Sorry, when I get nervous, I mutter...look here at this datapad.” She held it up for him. He inched closer until he could see it.

“They...they want to pour sulfuric acid into my optics!? Force me to transform into a pile of rubble? Let me see that!” He reached for the data pad, and his hand passed through the force field.

_ Now. _

Glyph told the force field to shut off as she grabbed his wrist with both hands, swinging him into the cell, and using the momentum of the swing to throw herself out of it.

She heard Breakdown crash into the back of the cell, and told the force field to reactivate.

“ _ <Force field! Override NO-DECEPTICON-IN-CELL rule! Enable soundproofing!>” _

All was silent in the room, even as Breakdown screamed wordlessly behind the field. Before she took Scrounge down from his chains, she looked back at the helpless Decepticon. She pointed at Breakdown, who covered his head.

“ _ <Datapad: download speech-rehab-notes-v4 from ctp::altihex.cyb/~glyph/lecture/notes.> _ ”

He looked up at her quizzically.

“I know you’re a Decepticon and want to kill me. But I used to help people with speech problems. Yours can be treated. Read those notes. Ask any medic about  _ neologistica traumatica _ . Sorry it has to be this way.” She hoisted Scrounge’s arm over her neck and helped carry him out.

“We won’t get far in Kolkular, but we’re out of their scrambler in that cell,” she said to Scrounge. “Any objections to me calling Command? I’m going to beam them everything I know. So if we’re killed here, the mission was a success...”

Scrounge said nothing.

“I know you’re probably too damaged to speak. I’m sorry it’s going to end like this. I’m glad I got to see you one more time. Okay, beaming now. And...done. Let’s get out of--”

At the end of the hallway, Shockwave stood, aiming his gun arm at her.

“Very good, Glyph. Thank you for your data. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

He fired at Scrounge, who exploded in her arms. The burns and shrapnel sent her backwards. She struggled to sit up and see through the smoke, and all she could see was the sharp yellow eye, blinding her in the darkness.

“85.9% probability: you would use your powers to shut yourself in D.I/E, waiting for help. 61.1%: you would kill Breakdown yourself. 27.6%: you would huddle in the corner and wait for death. 0.01%: you would somehow aid your captor.  _ Very illogical. Very disappointing.”  _

She heard the high-pitched whine of a precision laser powering up. 

“Fact: I knew that you could not resist using your powers. Every hypothesis about you was shown to be valid. It probably did not seem strange to you that I would assign a mentally unstable guard for you, one whom you thought you could overpower. So overconfident, just like Prowl trained you. So long as you send your data, it’s a success, is it not? Fact:  _ you were wrong. _ The thing you thought was Scrounge was just a shell, a husk who blocked your transmission and routed it to my data team. Prowl and the Autobots know nothing.”

She backed away, the yellow optic glowing brighter.

“This may give you solace:  _ Scrounge has been dead for many cycles now.  _ After your vivisection, and your diet of acid, and the lethal dosage testing, you will join him.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs: “ _ <TSU-TCSCHE-TCH-TCHU-TSCH!!> _ ”

Shockwave’s form froze and contorted. “What!?” he said as his body half-transformed and collapsed onto the hallway floor.

There was a 1 in 200 chance that would’ve worked, and even then it wasn’t perfect, even after she worked hard to study the sound he’d made when he’d transformed earlier. But perfectly copying the sound a transformation cog makes was almost impossible, she thought, and most of the time the t-cog doesn’t respond to external transformation commands. Shockwave quivered and thrashed on the ground as some sort of half-gun, and she limped away, no fancy speeches or one-liners taunting the vulnerable Decepticon, unable to finish him with her current strength.

Surely Decepticons were coming for her.

She started transmitting to any Autobot frequencies she was aware of: “Intel from D.I/E in Kolkular. Requesting assistance. Afraid to beam info about Prime. About to lose consciousne--”

* * *

Starscream stood on a staircase leading up to a dais leading up to a Throne of Kolkular. He stood with one foot just one stair higher than the other, his purple cape sweeping across his back. Five steps down was another Decepticon, looking identical to Starscream, but just a little shorter, having no cape, standing in the same pose. At the base of the stairs stood Stormriser with his arms crossed, his optics glancing askance.

Around the throne room stood dozens of Reflector-reporters, live streaming Starscream’s “A Night in Kolkular: Featuring Starscream.”

“Welcome, welcome, members of the press! I hope you have enjoyed this tour of Kolkular, the safest place on Cybertron. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The reporters all nodded and smiled, save one: a short grey and blue robot. “Rook here. Neutrals United. Let’s get real. All these so-called reporters are Decepticon posers. Time for the real questions. You ready?”

The capeless Starscream pointed his arm cannons at the blasphemer. “You will not speak to Lord Starscream in such a blasphemous manner!” Three Reflector teams in the room focused their lenses on the barrels of the cannons.

“Now, now,  _ Starstream _ , it’s quite alright,” Starscream said, waving down his protege’s aggression. “This is Starstream. He is an excellent replacement for the dearly-departed Frontstab, and honors my leadership by changing his form to match mine. Now, Starstream, Rook here is my guest. Cybertron cries out for peace, and we Decepticons are here to return it to the  _ people,  _ you see. Everyone, except for Autobot terrorists of course, is welcome to express any concerns they may or  _ may not  _ have.”

“Good, let’s get started,” Rook said, unflinching with a cannon near his face. “One: you claim, and I quote, ‘Decepticon approval for me has never been higher, even higher than for Megatron’. Care to comment?”

“Why, it’s obvious. Under Megatron, the Decepticons were a military system aimed at turning the planet into a big spaceship.  _ Real  _ Decepticons, not Megatron’s lackeys, are totally fine shepherding this world into a better place, free from strife and war. And Megatron didn’t hold press conferences like I do. He didn’t care. I do.”

“Uh-huh. Two: there are reports of rights abuses right here in Kaon, perpetrated by the likes of Soundwave or Shockwave. What do you have to say about them?”

“Again, that’s all Megatron. Both of those Decepticons are consumed with oil-lust, something I’m totally against. Megatron brought them onboard. I keep them around because it’s unsafe to let them roam free, you understand.” At the entrance to the throne room was a steadily-increasing clanging sound.

“And three: several sky-watch agencies are reporting that Cybertron is going to pass through an asteroid belt soon. What are your plans for that?” Starstream had a worried look on his face that he exchanged with Starscream.

“Well, the liar Optimus Prime promised he would provide safe passage through that asteroid belt before he oh-so-conveniently disappeared. Just another Autobot lie. I promise that I have the best Pathblaster teams working on it-  _ what is that clanging sound!?” _

The door opened, and Shockwave lurched in. His arms were rigid and posed in a T-shape; one of his legs had collapsed into itself as per his transformation; the other was untransformed. His head was collapsed into his torso. He slumped onto the ground.

“Shockwave! What--” Starscream started. Starstream looked at Starscream and copied his shocked face. The reporters all backed away from the Shockwave’s malformed state as though he were contagious.

“Autobot- Autobot loose- Glyph- rip out your audio circuits- rip them out--”

“Shockwave, you  _ clod!  _ Get up this instant! I will not believe that a tiny, weak Autobot bested you!” Starscream yelled. Starstream kicked Shockwave on the ground. 

Stormriser knelt next to Shockwave. “I think there’s something wrong with his t-cog! It’s the outlier, the one with the- the hacking!”

Rook, unfazed by all the commotion, said, “I only had one more question, but now I have ten. What’s this about hacking now?”

Starscream said to Rook, while glaring at Stormriser, “Ah. There is no hacking. These are just Autobot tricks, the dying gasp of a rebellion I crushed--”

Motormaster ran into the room, and stumbled over himself at the sight of Shockwave’s twitching body. “ _ Oh scrap, what hot garbage is this--” _

“Motormaster, report!” Starscream shouted, followed by a quieter “yeah!” from Starstream.

“Starscream, the interrog- er, questioning area is under attack! Dead End and Wildrider found Breakdown sobbing in a cell and can’t get him out!”

“Let’s go, Starscream!” Stormriser yelled, motioning impatiently. Starscream looked back and forth from Motormaster and Stormriser to the reporters. Rook seemed to be ignoring them all, taking copious notes and muttering into a recorder.

Starscream took off his cape and followed Motormaster and Stormriser towards D.I/E, followed by the throng of reporters. Shockwave asked, “Is- is anyone- TSCHU-TSCHE- anyone there?” But no one responded.

* * *

Glyph knew she only had a few moments left, under the blaring alarm and the muffled, searching voices.

She tried to transform but could not. Apparently her stunt on Shockwave disrupted  _ her own  _ t-cog.

_ I’m sorry, Tap-Out,  _ she thought.  _ I’m sorry I couldn’t see you again, that I failed to save Scrounge. I wish I had more time to tell you all the little stupid things that happen every day. Remember the good times, like how Prowl nearly fell into stasis when he found out you were my Conjunx. How you have a phobia of glitch-mice and laugh at yourself about it. How you never made fun of my faceplate when I put it on.  _ She hated how dramatic she felt, but there was any time to be dramatic, she felt it should be now.

A door exploded behind her. She looked away, didn’t want to face the end--she felt herself jerked up off of the ground and had time to wonder if an explosion killed her and why everything was painless if so--but then she realized there were arms around her as the sound of two rocket engines deafened her, as their heat covered her, and suddenly everything went sideways as her captor banked left, into a large dimly-lit room whose door shut immediately.

Glyph scrambled to her feet and shoved herself away from the one who’d carried her here.

It was Starscream’s lieutenant, Stormriser.

“Wh-what’re you--”

“Quiet!” he said. He looked over his shoulder, at a port in the closed door. “Stunticons and Predacons. They’re coming to kill you.”

“I--I know that...why did you do that?” she asked him. Stormriser looked down at Glyph, his face in anguish. “Well?” she pressed. “Are we safe here? Are you my ally?”

“I...Autobots aren’t supposed to be like you. I remember your face the night I saw you--”

“You mean the night you  _ shot  _ me?” She held her arm reflexively. “Is this really the time for--all this?”

“This isn’t why I became a Decepticon. The Autobots are supposed to be holding us all back, making us weak. Megatron made us all feel strong.”

“Look! Decepticons are going to burst in through that door. When they come in, are you going to fight them?”

“You didn’t kill Breakdown. Why didn’t you? You’re the oppressor! It doesn’t make sense!” They both became silent as footsteps raced close by the room. The area had a dim red glow; beneath grates in the floor were pools of superheated energon used to power Kaon. Large pistons hummed and oscillated up and down slowly.

“I can’t answer all this right now, but I know some who could. Let’s get out of here, you and me!”

“I want to. I really do. But that’s not why I brought you here. I...need you to know something about me.”

“Okay, what?”

“ _ I’m the one who killed Scrounge.” _

No words. Only a face twisted in anger, fuel pump leaking, nearly bursting. “ _ You killed him!” _

“You and he killed Frontstab! You ambushed me and impersonated me! I was full of revenge--but something about you broke it. You broke it in me. I want to break--”

Glyph lunged at Stormriser’s rifle arm with so much strength it even surprised her. “ _ You! Killed him!”  _ She was only barely aware of the words she was saying. As she yanked forward, he reeled backwards out of shock, and the rifle was ripped out of his arm, knocking them both flat on their backs.

He gripped his jagged, sparking arm. “No, please--I wanted--I wanted to break the cycle--”

She aimed the rifle at him. She felt as if someone else were steering her, and saw only targets. She tried to regain control, but only shuddered and let out a large scream as she pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened. Stormriser’s mouth was agape, optics bright with horror. He clutched his chest.

“You--you killed me,” he said in a confused voice, as if he realized that he had misplaced something. “You killed me.”

“What are you talking about!?”

“The tachyon rifle, it’s my power, I...it’s not supposed to work on me, how...it’s the same shot I used on you. The bullet is going to shoot right through me at some point in the future.”

“This is some kind of...time-travel gun?” she said, throwing the rifle to the ground with a disgusted expression on her face.

“C-could be right now, in a cycle, in a vorn…I’ll never know...”

“Can...it be reversed?”

“You  _ killed  _ me.” He fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

The door to the energon refinement pool exploded. In came Stunticons, Predacons, and Starscream. Starstream and several reporters followed them in, clones of Viewfinders and Spectros and Spyglasses live-streaming, and Here-Comes-Treble providing audio. Several vents on the far side of the room popped open.

“Autobot!” Motormaster said, and raised his gun to fire at her. Stormriser stood between the gun barrel and Glyph. 

“This isn’t right,” Stormriser said, as though he were wounded. “Please, there has to be some other way--”

“What do you think you’re doing, Stormriser!? Move aside!” Starscream said. He looked back and forth from the camera to the weapons pointed at Glyph and Stormriser. Another vent popped open behind them.

“Why are you doing this?” Glyph whispered. “Leave me and fly out of here!”

“Your fate is my fate now.”

“Can I join in and say a bunch of dramatic junk too?” Everyone pointed cameras and guns to the voice in the middle of the room. Standing there, over the grate of reddish-purple energon, was Tap-Out all of a sudden, smirking with his arms crossed, a transparent orange decloaking prism around him.

“Another Autobot!” Razorclaw said. “Terrorist! Get him!” 

Several Decepticons fired, and Glyph and Stormriser dove for cover.

Every shot was perfect. But after a few moments, Tap-Out waved the smoke away, unscathed.

“H-how!” Wildrider and Drag Strip asked at the same time.

“Foolish Decepticon!” Tap-Out said. “Do you not yet know that I have learned the deadliest of martial arts, Crystalocution? I grabbed all of your bullets before they reached me!”

“No he didn’t!” came Trailbreaker’s voice, invisible, from one corner of the room.

“Or I just had Trailbreaker’s force field over me,” Tap-Out shrugged.

“Aim at that corner! The Autobots will not humiliate me again!” Starscream said, partly for himself, partly for the cameras. 

Over her comm, Glyph heard a stern voice, “Glyph: report your condition!”

“Prowl!”

“Excellent, you’re alive. I’m in control here. I’m monitoring your position at Omega base. Extraction underway. Jazz: phase 2.”

Suddenly, a dozen or so Autobots decloaked in the room. Glyph saw Starscream flee, yelling behind him, “Kill them all!”

“Yo, Glyph!” Jazz waved.

“Jazz!  _ <happy expletive in Cybertronix> _ Oh Primus, you’re actually here--”

“Where did these scrappin’ Autobots come from!?” Headstrong screamed as he aimed a weapon into the rapidly scattering Autobot crowd.

“Glyph, disable that weapon!” Prowl said in her comm.

“ _ <Gun: self-disassemble for maintenance!>” _

Headstrong pulled a trigger to no avail, and watched the gun crumble in his hand. In that very moment, a short green and yellow Autobot tackled him. “Hey Predacon, do you know what wall tastes like?” he said, before slamming the Decepticon into a wall.

Two Stunticons fired at her, but she felt herself jerked into the air by a magnetic field as a red Autobot with pistons for arms punched them in the back. “Brawn, buddy, I got two in one!”

“Shut up, Sideswipe!” she heard Brawn say, and the magnetic field that held her suddenly dropped her behind another boxy dark red Autobot. 

“Hey there lil’ lady,” he said, shrugging off laser fire. “You enjoyin’ Operation ‘Advanced Rescue Krew’? Pardon me a minute; Prowl wants me ta do somethin’.” The large Autobot fired a sticky adhesive at Wildrider’s and Drag Strip’s feet. 

Everywhere she looked, she saw coordinated attacks, as if there were one mind controlling several Autobots. Brawn tossed Tap-Out at Motormaster, punching his sword and left side rapidly with finger jabs.

“You moron!” Motormaster snickered. “I didn’t feel--” and then the sword suddenly shattered and Motormaster doubled over, clutching his side. Bringing the Stunticon down with a scissor takedown, he said, “Be sure to tell Bludgeon thanks for accidentally showing me how the Poison Fist works!”

Another small orange and purple Autobot with a whiny laugh twisted Wildrider’s and Drag Strip’s arms painfully as they dropped their weapons. A tiny Autobot fired something at Starscream, his arm becoming brittle. Tap-Out piledrove Dead End into the ground, who only sighed as he fell unconscious.

Razorclaw shouted, “Predacons, unite!” and the battered Decepticons formed into Predaking, the room being slightly too small to accommodate his height.

None of the other Autobots panicked, even as Glyph felt terror at the sight of the giant Decepticon.

With a steady voice in her mind, Prowl said, “Good, they’re desperate ahead of schedule. Phase 3. Elita: end this.”

A dark pink Autobot stared at Predaking, her optics becoming blindingly bright blue, her arms raised as though she were embracing the sky. Glyph felt a heaviness near her, her movements, even her energon flow slow down.

Predaking laughed. “Die, insects!” and tried to bring a large fist down over Elita. She slowly sidestepped it, and the impact cracked the grates keeping them from the liquid energon underneath. “...What…?” he said, his voice sluggish.

“You’re too brash to know what’s happening to you. Your brute force is nothing to me. When you recover from this, when your hunter’s pride is shattered, remember this. Remember it was Elita who laid you low.” Suddenly Mirage appeared on his back, firing an electro-disruptor at the back of his neck, forcing the gestalt to kneel. Finally, Jazz fired a grappling hook around Predaking’s neck, and with a heavy yank, brought him to the ground.

Starscream huddled in the corner. Jazz retracted his grappling hook. “Ready to give up, Screamer?” 

“I--I’m not Starscream!”

“Uh-huh.  _ Sure.” _

“No, I swear! My name is Starstream! I’m--um--I’m a doppelganger! Yes, that’ll do! Yes! I’ll just sit here!”

The big boxy red Autobot smacked him on the head, and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Over her comm, Glyph could hear Prowl again. “Good work, Ironhide. Extraction complete. Ignore the coward. Escape now. Hound has a full map of Kolkular from Scrounge’s data upload _. _ ”

“Scrounge did that?” she asked. She could almost hear Prowl smile over the comm.

Tap-Out pointed to the crumpled Stormriser on the ground, who had fallen unconscious from energon loss through his arm. “What about  _ him?  _ He’s one of Starscream’s lackeys.”

“Leave him,” Prowl said.

“Guys, this will sound crazy, but he helped me earlier. I think he wants to change,” Glyph said.

“Negative. He doesn’t factor into my plans. We’re half a klik behind schedule. Jazz: order your team to depart.”

“He’s right, Glyph. Wheeljack and Gears are waiting two floors down, settin’ up a one-time short-distance ground bridge. It’s experimental, and I ain’t lookin’ forward to usin’ it--you know how Wheeljack is--but it got us in here, and it’s the only way we’ll ever get out of here.” Tap-Out stood behind her, ushering her towards the vents as she kept looking back at him.

Sunstreaker and Bluestreak welded the door shut as the others climbed inside the vents, following Hound’s holographic map from the 37th to the 35th floor of Kolkular, where Gears was waiting and angrily waving them all in.

* * *

The next day was the longest day in Starscream’s life.

The Decepticon leaders and generals reassembled at Castle Darkmount, this time at the behest of every leader  _ except  _ Starscream. They were seated at the recently-rebuilt Table of Generals.

All optics were fixed on a news display; that is, all optics except Starscream’s and Starstream’s. 

They listened to Rook’s voice: “To conclude: what we saw today was truly revolutionary. A group of rebels managed to sneak into the very heart of Decepticon territory and leave without suffering any injury. The Predacon Guard refuses to comment. For the second time in as many megacycles, the Supreme Sovereign of the Decepticons had his base sacked by a small number of attackers as he fled the scene. Autobots across Cybertron are rallied; Decepticons are confused.”

Shockwave interrupted the broadcast, standing next to the display. “Soundwave, you may stop now.” The display, which emanated from a screen on Soundwave’s chest, shut off, and the lights returned to the room.

“We are being mocked across the globe,” Straxus said, squeezing his axe. 

“Look upon your actions, Starscream, and despair!” Thunderwing said with a smile.

“Starscream, you have been given this chance to lead, and your cowardice disgraces the very name ‘Decepticon’ itself,” Scorponok said. “All Decepticons are threatened while those Autobots are in at large. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Starscream was silent. Starstream next to him looked at the crowd, and then down at ground.

“Silence equals guilt,” said Deathsaurus. “Thus we are ready to proceed. Strika?”

Strika stood and prepared to speak, but Overlord said, “Wait, I’m confused here. Didn’t we all expect Starscream to fail? Isn’t that what we recruited Starstream for?”

Everyone  _ else _ was silent now, except Starscream. “What!? This was a set up? You knew I would fail?”

“Silence, Starscream,” Shockwave said. “Overlord, cease aggravating him. Starscream, fact: your failure was certain. I even proved it with graphs. Would you like to see them? ‘Operation: Starstream’ merely accelerated the foregone conclusion. I am quite impatient, you know.”

Starscream stood in anger, followed quickly by Starstream. “This is treason! All of you are conspiring against your leader!”

“Starscream,” Strika began, “you are hereby stripped of your title as Emperor of Destruction. After your recent failures and the defection of your lieutenant, Stormriser, we have voted unanimously to give the title to Shockwave. Bludgeon will be promoted in your place as General. Your new title is your old one: Air Commander. Do you have any questions?”

“Wait!” Starscream said. “I’m not Starscream! I’m Starstream!”

Starstream whirled to face Starscream, screeching in reply, “No! Starscream is a little bit taller! Look! I’m not Starscream!”

Shockwave sighed, and transformed into gun mode, his t-cog recently repaired. “Do us the honor, Soundwave,” he said as Soundwave caught him.

One of the two fell to his knees and begged. “Please! I don’t want this power! Power should be shared to make us all better, to bring us all up! Please!”

Soundwave pulled the trigger, atomizing the midsection of the kneeling Seeker. He fell over, silent at last, mouth agape.

The other Seeker had the same expression on his face. “How--how were you sure that wasn’t me?”

Shockwave transformed back into robot mode. “We all know Starscream has very little interest in sharing power. It was obvious.”

Thunderwing asked, “Really,  _ does it matter even if we were wrong in which of them we killed? _ ” The leaders and generals murmured, shaking their heads  _ no. _

“Starscream is an amazingly valuable warrior--with the proper direction. With guidance, even a single bullet can be deadly.”

“Sure, talk about me like I’m not here,” Starscream muttered.

Overlord leaned forward to look at the smoking body on the ground. “Mmm, still alive. Mind if I keep this?”

“Do what you will. As Interregnum Commander, I am now putting policies into plan, effective immediately. First: no more press. In fact, find all non-Reflector reporters and destroy them. Next: all Autobots under house arrest are to die immediately. Third: all Guardians are authorized to destroy Autobots on sight. Fourth: the remains of the Autobot space bridge must be analyzed to estimate their location. Fifth: increase cybersecurity measures to detect further system intrusions. Finally: begin the search for all outlier Decepticons. We must assemble a team to counteract the attack we suffered today. With the data intercepted by Glyph earlier, we should be able to discover the location of Optimus Prime. We must analyze the data they accessed to prevent them from finding their leader, no matter the cost.”

* * *

Sitting in her lodgings, Collider watched Stormriser in his cell, the same cell in which Glyph was imprisoned. She saw him sitting there pathetically, missing an arm, guarded by Combaticons. 

She stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. She had watched the video of him defending her _ ,  _ defending Glyph. Watched him getting lost staring into her optics. Defending  _ her _ . Defending an Autobot.

She knew her title would soon be stripped. She may be killed for association with a traitor.

She felt electron and positron beams circling in her mind, and as her optics flashed red, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

In a small room within Omega Supreme, Tap-Out hugged Glyph as hard as he could without hurting her. Outside of the room were the muffled sounds of a celebration, accompanying bass-boosted music from Jazz.

“Primus, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Tap, I…” she began, trailing off. “I thought...I thought I was  _ dead.  _ I had completely given up and accepted I was going to die. Like, I feel  _ numb.” _

“Well then, I’ll have to bring you back to life, you know? Just like you did for me, way back when.” With that, she finally sank into his embrace.

He continued, slowly rocking back and forth as they hugged. “I was at the end of my rope. I went back to Yoketron, and he had been replaced by a Decepticon.”

“Shockwave told me about that, about Bludgeon.”

He winced as he spoke. “Except...I’m not sure if Yoketron were ever real. He...he may have just changed to something evil over time. But I changed too. I thought I could save you by myself, but I was wrong. I needed everyone’s help. Even Graphy and his ka-kaws.” They laughed for a moment.

Then she asked, “Tap, do you think a robot can really change like that?”   


“I do. I don’t believe; I know they can. I really do.”

The words comforted her somehow.

“So, this is Omega base?” she wondered. “He’s...alive?”

“Yep! Hey, Omega: are you listening in on us? Can’t you give us some privacy?”

The booming voice responded, “Privacy: limited. Ignorance: preferred.”

They heard a summons at the door. “Hey introverts!” Bluestreak said. “Come on out! You can’t hog each other all night! We need to catch up!” Tap-Out took her hand and they joined the party.

The music was loud and bassy. Prowl stood alone in a corner, sipping a heavily-ionized energon beverage while Mirage stood behind a makeshift bar. Ironhide told stories to a group of Mini-Cons. At the sight of Tap-Out and Glyph, everyone cheered and sang an old song about returning home from war, called “Lost and Found”. Rewind helped Chromedome walk as Blaster, his visor retracted at last, bopped his head to a beat. Lightspeed tried to find the rhythm, but kept stopping and starting over.

Brawn came over and smacked Glyph on the back so hard she stumbled forward three steps. “Oops, sorry about that. Heard you really gave it to’em there with your chat powers!” 

Minerva rushed over, saying, “Hey, careful! I just patched her up!” 

Ratchet called across the room, saying, “When Brawn’s around, you need at least two medics!”

As everyone laughed, Jazz put down his bass instrument and talked with Prowl. “You’re doing a great impression of someone who can’t stand parties.”

“This event has been going on for too long. I’m planning our next moves. Planning makes me happy!”

“Oh, give it up. You’ve been pushing them hard. Man, like Elita! You got her to control those powers?”

“She can focus her time distortion powers on one individual. It turns out that drains less of her energy and is more useful in a combat situation.”

“Win-win, eh? Well, that proves my point. We all need a moment of downtime. You included. Let them party tonight. Then--”

“--yes. Great Optimus, at last.”

“I guess I’ll give you some good news, something you can mull over instead of socializing. Chromedome just finished decrypting the database Glyph brought back from her old mission. We have a  _ location _ .”

Prowl nearly spit out his drink. “Where!?”

Jazz pointed up. “Secluna. Moonbase-2. We party tonight, we mourn Scrounge tomorrow, we plan, and we finally bring Prime home.”

(to be concluded)


End file.
